


Red Ink

by T3Tohru



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aggresive, Angry Sex, Blast-Ended Skrewts, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Not Beta Read, Post-War, Smut, Steal my beverage one more time I dare you, We swear like sailors, Yes there is a plot, dramione - Freeform, humor (maybe)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 144,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22366738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T3Tohru/pseuds/T3Tohru
Summary: Post-war Hermione’s life becomes insufferable when she is forced to work with Draco Malfoy at the Ministry of Magic in order to pass her proposals. She hates him. She really, really, hates him.A classic Dramione trope written because I wanted to, no other reason.Hate leads to hate sex. Hate sex leads to love.Yes there is a plot.Semi-canon compliant. This was just for fun.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 697
Kudos: 1289
Collections: dramione to read





	1. Blast-Ended Skrewts

**Author's Note:**

> This has been floating around in my head for a while, yet there is absolutely nothing original about it. There are hundreds if not thousands of these out there so trust me when I say that it is not a unique post-war fic.
> 
> But! *the human says with a determined fist pumped into the air* I don’t care!! haahahah!  
> (don’t judge me, I just want to write different things)  
> If you are a fan of the Dramione pairing stick around! This is a hate to love story filled a ridiculous amount of anger.  
> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates irregularly, perhaps every two weeks on Saturday/Sunday? Who knows, In The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

**WARNING (PLEASE READ)**

This fic starts out aggressive, angry and full of rage. The dynamic between Hermione and Draco is not healthy to begin with and it takes some time for their relationship to shift into something with some substance. 

This fic is not intended to be taken overly seriously - but that said it does deal with some difficult topics in later chapters. This fic has been appropriately tagged as 'aggresive' and contains 'hate sex' for a reason. If you are not a fan of the dramione pairing this story may not be for you. Please keep in mind that this fic is just a _story,_ that it does not reflect all of my thoughts or opinions and it was intended to be over exaggerated, over the top and aggresive in nature.

************************************

Hermione’s hand clutched around the paper that she was holding, the edges crumpling as her heart beat in her ears and rage began to consume her. She could feel it burning through her body and bubbling at the back of her throat as an acid taste filled her mouth. Her eyes scanned the red marks that littered the page before her, the words echoing in her head as she read them.

_**‘Pen them in? PEN them in?! Are you fucking kidding me? And what exactly are you planning to pen them with? Metal bars perhaps? A concrete wall? Or no, wait, here’s a better idea much more suited to the level of effort you have put into this proposal – why don’t we just put a wooden fence around them since they are going to blast out of it all the same! Honestly, I thought you were supposed to be smart – at least that’s what everyone always says, but right now I am seriously beginning to question their judgment.’**_

_What._

_**’You do realize that these were illegally bred creatures correct? And that this proposition is going to cost the Ministry 25% of your yearly department budget to implement the project – and if I seem to recall correctly, your budget was just cut wasn’t it? So, this will actually cost you approximately 50% of your budget. I did the math right, right? Your budget was cut in half, yet your proposal still costs the same as I see no visible effort made on your part to try and reduce the costs – so that would mean that your project will now cost twice as much out of the budget as it did before. So, 50% right?’**_

_The._

_**’You’ve cited that the land is currently not in use, vacant and a good location for the proposed ‘sanctuary’ so I have to ask you – have you ever actually been out there? Are you aware that this land encroaches on a natural geyser that spews natural gas because there is a small pocket of it in the Northern most corner of the lot? I would have thought, given your background, you would at least understand the basic principals of combustion. Are you trying to create a bomb? Or is this just yet another detail that somehow the glorious Granger has over looked? Honestly, I’m on my second fucking pen now because this proposal is just so bloody terrible that there is hardly anything not to comment on – which means that I have to go get more of these stupid fucking pens from storage, which, by the way, is a twenty minute walk to the basement since the elevators don’t go down there! So, thank you for not only wasting my time with reviewing this ridiculous proposal, but also with the unnecessary trips to the dank cold storage room. At least you managed to spell your name right this time.’**_

_Fuck._

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!” Hermione crumpled the paper in her hand. A growl split through her lips as she stood from her desk, pushing her chair back so hard that it fell to the floor before she stomped around the edge in blind rage.

Throwing the door to her office open she ignored the echoing bang it made as it collided with the wall on the opposite side and made her secretary jump in her seat. At least this time Tracey didn’t scream in shock, instead Hermione barely caught a glimpse of the girl rolling her eyes before turning back to the magazine that she had been reading at her desk.

Four months ago, this sort of behaviour was unheard of. Hermione Granger _never_ lost her composure, she never screamed, stomped, raged or threw open doors in a dramatic fashion. That was, at least, until Draco Malfoy had been promoted to the head of the new Magical Protection and Safety Department, or M-PaS for short. Hermione was now forced to consult with him for all proposals leaving the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures – of which she was head of magical creature law developments and proposal creation for regulation changes.

Hermione stormed down the hall, ignoring when two young interns walking her way quickly side stepped into an empty office and ducked their heads to avoid her – paper continuing to crumple in her fist, she made it to the elevator and slammed the brass doors closed. She was breathing heavily, her whole body shaking with rage as the small brass box moved slowly up to the third floor, to M-PaS, so she could go strangle the man herself – personally.

She wasn’t exactly proud of her behaviour, or the fact that she and Malfoy hadn’t been able to work together for even a single day before the first explosion had happened. Four months ago she had attended a joint department meeting, the boring Friday morning one that happened every month so that the department heads could relay new information and announce any changes. It was during this meeting that Malfoy’s new role had been announced. Hermione could still remember rolling her eyes at the idea – _Malfoy in charge of Protection and Safety? Honestly? It had to be a fucking joke._

But it wasn’t.

Malfoy took the job and swiftly made his presence known on the floor – delaying law amendments, questioning _everything_ and being an absolute pompous ass. She had tried to be nice, she had tried to let go of her old feelings of anger and prejudice – after all Harry, her best friend, had testified at Malfoy’s hearing and helped get his name cleared and his sentence reduced. Besides, she wasn’t completely heartless, she knew that Malfoy had been ordered by Voldemort to kill Dumbledore at only sixteen years of age. She knew that Voldemort had been living at his house, haunting and tormenting his family at _every_ turn, and that Malfoy had felt obligated to act in order to protect his family. She understood _that_ part of him – she had obliviated her own parents in order to save them and she probably would have done more than that if it was necessary. She knew that at the time he had been just a _boy_ and that the actions of a brainwashed, scared and insecure sixteen-year-old did not define who he could become as a man. He’d done his time and integrated back into society, they’d welcomed him, so, so would she.

Hence, after the morning meeting she had dropped by his office to say hello, intending to leave him a draft copy of the latest proposal which was being evaluated and offer to catch him up to speed on anything he didn’t understand. She had been intending to, as the saying goes, bury the hatchet and try to at least form some kind of working relationship with the guy since she would now have to include him in regular meetings and get his approval on any proposals before they could proceed. She had smiled when she knocked on his open door, proposal in hand and began her practiced opening line only to find that he completely ignored her. His head was down, quill in hand, and he was looking over something on his desk. Then, as if purposefully, in fact she _knew_ it was purposefully – he slowly raised his head and fixed her with a dark glare.

_‘Granger? – did you say something.’_

She’d bristled at his words. Was he trying to antagonize her? Instead she pushed it down and fixed a tight but firm smile on her lips. She took two steps into his office and dropped the folder on the desk.

‘ _I just wanted to give my congratulations,’_ it had come out much more coldly than she intended but she supposed old habits died hard. ‘ _This is the latest file that is being evaluated, comments are due by next Wednesday and I do not believe that Mr. Snarlof got to it before retiring. I know it can be difficult to assume a new role mid-project, so if you have any questions just let me know.’_

His eyes had darted down to the folder briefly before they locked back on to hers with disdain.

 _‘I’m sure I’ll manage, Granger,’_ the hatred in her name made her eyes narrow, but she refused to take the bait and left the office quickly.

At noon that same day Tracey had knocked on her door, handing her the red folder that she had left with Malfoy that morning. She hadn’t bothered hiding her shock at the quick return and couldn’t stop the small smile that edged to the corner of her lips – perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad after all, perhaps Malfoy just wanted to keep his head down and do his job. She’d thanked Tracey and dismissed her from her office. It was – probably the smartest move she made that day – because when she opened the folder, she came face to face with the most red ink she had ever seen in her entire life and realized that going to see Malfoy that morning had been a mistake.

It was scrawled across the pages, it was crammed into the margins, it even looped over some of the black text. She’d flipped a page over when she’d noticed an arrow pointing at the bottom corner of the sheet only to find a fucking essay on the back – having run out of room on the front to contain all of his comments he’d turned it over and filled the back side. She had skimmed through the pages, her mouth falling open at the rude, insulting and utterly disgusting comments that littered the document. Though curiously, when she’d gotten to the final page of the proposal it wasn’t littered with hate – instead it contained only a single thread of red.

_**’Based on the utter rubbish contained within pages 1-6 of this proposal, if you can even call whatever this is a proposal, I am not going to waste my time reviewing yet another page of trash.’**_

She had sat stunned in her chair, unmoving, unblinking. The red littered pages slid from her hands onto the floor as she stood from her desk, hand clutched to her chest and made her way to the door. She’d walked in a stupor, too blindsided to be rightfully enraged and found herself standing in front of his door. She didn’t bother to knock and just walked in to find him in the same position he’d been in that morning, head hunched over his work.

_‘Really Granger, do you have no capacity for etiquette? After asking me to spend my morning reading rubbish you just walk into my office?’_

Her stupor had vanished in that moment as the deep-seated burning rage she had always held toward Malfoy reignited in her chest and her face twisted into an angry mess.

_‘Were you trying to be difficult – or do you just not want this proposal to push through?’_

_‘I was trying to do my job Granger, it’s not my fault that proposal is full of holes.’_

_‘It’s a first draft Malfoy,’_ she had said tightly through a clenched jaw. _‘The comment process is meant to be constructive, not an opportunity to spew hatred on a page!’_

 _‘My comments were constructive – I constructively told you that the proposal was garbage and not to waste my time with bullshit like that again,'_ he had sneered at her, goading her, trying to get her to react. ‘ _Next time, provide me with something better than crup shit and I’ll give you constructive feedback.’_

 _‘ You – are such a pathetic ass!’_ the words had left her mouth before she could stop them. It had been the first time that she’d ever sworn at work or said anything inappropriate to a coworker. He’d arched a perfect brow at her, and she abruptly turned and left, aware of the fact that his own secretary had heard the exchange.

At the time she had been ashamed by her actions. They were completely unprofessional, completely irresponsible – though, she firmly believed that they were indeed called for. She even briefly considered apologizing and trying to make amends. The exchange had lingered in her mind and ate away at her over the weekend. She didn’t want to work in a hostile work environment and she certainly did not want to be _part_ of the hostility. But then Monday came, and Malfoy returned mark-ups on a first-round preliminary _concept,_ not even a proposal – a concept, and the scathing commentary had shattered any thoughts she had about making amends.

Thus, began the next four months of angry letters, occasional screaming, slamming doors, and awkward yet amused looks from co-workers. What shocked her though, more than anything about the situation, was that not only did she _not_ get into trouble for her behaviour – no one even commented on it. Aside from some initial surprise at her change in demeanor, or in Tracey’s case a terrified scream the first time her door slammed open, no one seemed to care that they were constantly at each other’s throats and they didn’t really react to it.

She found it annoyingly disconcerting until one Saturday night, while having dinner with Harry and Ginny, Harry let it slip that Malfoy had been moved because no one in his previous department could work with him. They had _intentionally_ placed him in a roll that worked closely with her because they figured she, of all people, would be able to work with him calmly due to her natural professionalism. And while they had been wrong about the calmly part – they had somehow, despite the turbulent chaos that was their non-functional working relationship, still managed to get work done. Additionally, or at least allegedly as per Harry, the other more _important_ departments were now able to work with him effectively since his attention and difficult tendencies seemed to be focused on her. So, her coworkers and peers refrained from commenting or complaining about their intense exchanges.

She’d yelled at Harry for not telling her. Ginny had sat back in amusement and allowed it to happen, casually eating her cake with a smile while Hermione raged and poked her wand into Harry’s chest as he tried to bat it away and crawl out of his chair. She had threated to quit her job – even though she knew it was empty words. She loved her job, she loved protecting creatures that everyone else ignored and took advantage of, she loved helping those in need and making the world a better place. Harry had noted as much during her ranting, calling her out on the fact that she would never actually quit – then he had to quickly duck when Hermione sent a sardine hex at his face. Amongst her rantings and wand wavings, and while Ginny had poured herself a fresh cup of tea only to continue watching the exchange entertained, she had asked _why_ the bloody fuck he wasn’t just fired if he was so fucking difficult to work with all the time.

The answer to that, according to Harry – was that Malfoy actually did do good work with the remaining departments _and,_ more importantly, he donated a significant amount of money to research every year. So, the Ministry was obliged to keep him employed in some small facet since that was his only request in return. And since they had managed not to set each other on fire yet _and_ because they were in fact getting work done – the Ministry decided to keep him there as it was the best fit for everyone. And by _everyone,_ they meant literally everyone else but her. They clearly did not give a shit about her own mental health and based on the budget cuts they obviously did not find the care of magical creatures important either.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened quickly as Hermione stepped out to face three employees sitting in cubicles in the center of the large department. She hated that their faces twisted into some deranged sense of enjoyment and they scooted to the end of their seat as if eager to see the next explosion. As if she were some spectacle to behold. She ignored them, turning quickly to her left and marching down the hall toward Malfoy’s office. He sat directly above her by one floor and often times she wondered if he could hear her screaming in rage in her office after he returned a proposal covered in red.

“Malfoy!” she burst through his door. She didn’t bother knocking, firstly because she didn’t give a shit about his personal space or his privacy – if he wanted to keep people out, he could lock and ward his door. Secondly, because she knew he already heard her coming. The click of her shoes against the stone floor echoed loudly through his department every time she approached. “What the fuck is this?!”

She slammed the crumpled page down on his desk, jaw clenched tightly as she waited for the inevitable slow gaze he would give her. He raised his head slowly, predictably, fixing her with a pinched stare.

“You really have no sense of manners do you,” he said darkly, before his eyes flicked down to the page on the desk. “As talented as I am Granger, I don’t speak _crumpled paper_ , so you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”

Hermione reached forward, grabbing the page and straightening it out. Her hands thumped loudly against his desk as she did so, slamming her palms across the page as she flattened it and then pointed directly at the paper.

“I held four meetings on this proposal Malfoy – four! And you were invited to _every_ single one of them, but you didn’t bother to show. This proposal is supposed to be completed by end of week! This is the sort of stuff that should have been addressed _weeks_ ago! Not three days before it is due!”

“We finally agree,” Malfoy said with a smirk, sitting back in his chair and glaring at her. “These _should_ have been addressed, and yet, you didn’t address them.”

“You _do_ understand that these comments are _permanently_ recorded right? That this document will be logged forever within the Ministry catalogues and that someone aside from me might see the shit you wrote! It is completely inappropriate to curse and make personal remarks in review comments on a proposal!”

“Hardly a fitting remark given that you’ve all but destroyed the page with your sweaty hands,” his eyes flicked down to the page before him with disgust. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you care about the integrity of the catalogue system if _that_ is how you treat your documents.”

“Why didn’t you attend the meetings Malfoy?” Hermione practically growled, placing both hands on his desk and leaning forward. “I confirmed your availability with Daphne – I even held one of them after hours _just_ so that you could attend.”

“Unlike you – I actually have more important things to do than sit in review meetings to discuss an idiotic proposal on the protection of Blast-Ended Skrewts!” Malfoy leaned forward, the anger in his voice increasing. “I know that Mr. Snarlof was your own personal carpet and you’re used to getting your way, but I can’t just pass a proposal filled with _that_ many holes.”

“Please,” Hermione scoffed, leaning back once more and rolling her eyes. “You just _hate_ Blast-Ended Skrewts – you always have, ever since Hogwarts!”

“They are an illegally crossbred species that are dangerous and violent! You seriously think it is a good idea to _pen_ them in and give them a sanctuary?!”

“They are crossbred with a Manticore Malfoy! And they have been proven to demonstrate not only sentient behaviour but understanding of human speech! It’s not their fault that they’re aggressive – it’s in their nature! But Luna’s studies have proven, concretely, that they are in fact highly intelligent and therefore, despite being dangerous, their classification has changed, and they _must_ be protected!”

“At the cost of 50% of your department’s budget – fucking hell Granger! You’re stupider than I thought you were. They’re just going to eat each other once you put them in there!”

“My department’s budget is not your fucking concern Malfoy! But even if it was, it doesn’t change anything! After their classification was bumped and Luna’s work was published, they’re now considered an endangered species and I am _legally_ obligated to protect them – this proposal has to go through or I’m breeching my contractual, and might I add moral, obligations! If I do nothing, I will lose my job!”

“So you crammed together a half assed proposal that is completely unthought-out and deprived of any logic and expect me to just approve it?” Malfoy was standing now, his hands planted on the desk and he was glaring at her fiercely. “What about my fucking job?! I’m responsible for signing off on the safety of the proposal and you’ve given me a proposal that hasn’t considered the fucking consequences of penning them in next to a natural gas pocket!!”

They were both screaming at each other at this point, Hermione was heaving and Malfoy looked ready to spit fire. She would once again be forced to drink a disgusting batch of ‘sore throat be gone’ tonight to amend the damage she was doing to her vocal chords. She had been spending a small fortune on the potion over the last few months. What was worse than that, was that she knew right now at this moment Malfoy’s staff were probably smiling and laughing and enjoying their argument. Like the whole thing was some big fucking joke. This somehow fueled her rage more and her hands balled into fists at her side.

“I didn’t know about the natural gas pocket! Do you seriously think I am that stupid?!”

“Well you’re not giving me much else to go on here – didn’t you do a geo-check?”

“No! Obviously not, otherwise I would have addressed that!” She seethed, her hands were back on his desk now and they were both leering at each other.

“Why the fuck not?! That should have been the first thing that you did! You’re talking about penning in violently flammable cre–“

“BECAUSE I’M UP TO MY FUCKING EYEBALLS IN PROPOSALS MALFOY!” Hermione pushed off his desk and threw her hands to her sides in frustration before dragging them through her hair.

Her heart was racing, her breath was catching in her chest, she was so angry she could hardly breath. She started pacing in his office before his desk. She was losing any tiny shred of composure she had left – though arguably there was none of that left, who was she kidding, it was gone the second she screamed in her office. But now she was on the edge of falling apart before him because the reality was, he was right. Every single comment he had made, although cruel and rude, had been right. The proposal was severely lacking, she had not had the time to properly check it and had irresponsibly relied on her assistant.

She hated herself for it – it was fundamentally so unlike her that it made her feel sick. Her job had become so strenuous and exhausting she couldn’t keep up with everything or oversee every report. She was doing the role of three people and the workload of the department had doubled since the war. Yet they refused to hire more staff. It was no wonder her predecessor had died from a heart attack – that was how she got this role and now it was slowly killing her too.

“Then get help – otherwise someone is going to end up getting KILLED by one of these!” he picked up the crumpled paper and sneered at it, dropping it back down to the desk in one swift motion.

“I DO have help,’ she spat back at him. “I sent Anton out to do the preliminary check of the land, it’s not like I didn’t know that it needed to be looked at before the proposal was finished. But I couldn’t get to it myself and I was boxed into a corner with the deadline on the Centaur Incorporation Regulation – so I had to pass a lot of the inspection tasks to him and _unfortunately_ , as you can clearly see – he is an incompetent twat!”

“So then get _MORE_ help, having an incompetent assistant is not an excuse for this crap!”

“I _can’t_ get more help because, as you so kindly pointed out, my department’s funding has been cut, YET AGAIN!” she stormed back to his desk and slammed her hands down once more. “Everyone wants to feel fucking great and right the wrongs from before the war, but _no one_ wants to pay for it!”

“So why not just fire the assistant you have and get a competent one?” Malfoy challenged, giving her a nasty look. He didn’t flinch at her closeness across the desk and if anything, he only leaned in further as if trying to get her to back off.

“I tried to!” she breathed through clenched teeth and glared at him with all the hatred she could muster. “But there is nowhere for my assistant to be transferred and there is no interest from anyone else to join my department right now.”

“Well – if that’s not a statement about you and your work than I don’t know what is,” his scoff was arrogant and pleased.

“It’s not about _ME_ you fucking twat! It’s _YOU_! You _ruin_ all my meetings, you torment my staff and you make our department a living hell! So now I’m stuck with Anton, who doesn’t know a god damned rock from a firecrab, and he didn’t think to complete a basic geo-check of the proposed land!”

“Pftt,” Malfoy scoffed in her face. “I would have thought that would be training 101 Granger, you’ve done a terrible job. How could he possibly not know he needed to complete a check?”

“Probably because he is a pureblood asshat who hates me! He doesn’t actually care about his job because he’s essentially a trust fund baby and he’s never considered or bothered to understand basic science – like the potential of an explosion from a natural gas pocket!”

“Wow,” he snorted, arching a brow at her and finally leaning back as he crossed his arms over his chest. “And you say _I’m_ blood prejudiced.”

“Arrghh!!” she dropped her head toward his desk, her shoulders slumping as she bit her tongue in rage. “ _You_ are insufferable!”

“And yet, unsurprisingly, I’m still correct," he said snidely pointing to the crumpled page below her hanging head. She could see his stupid perfectly manicured hand in front of her, tapping the crumpled paper under her nose. “This proposal is riddled with issues, and I will _not_ approve it.”

 _I fucking hate him_ , she felt like crying in exasperation. She felt like running back to her desk, gathering her belongings and never coming back. She fucking hated him. Bastard. She hated that he was right. She was so incredibly angry with herself and the situation she was in. She hated that this piece of crap proposal had her name on it and that she was even required to write it at all. Protecting Blast-Ended Skrewts in a pen was the most insane idea she’d ever come across, but her hand had been forced by her boss.

“Fuck I hope your hand hurts,” she breathed out, she had no doubt it ghosted against his skin as she raised her head to look at him. Her arms bracing her against the desk in between them as she fixed him with her hatred. “I hope it seizes – and aches, and renders you completely useless after all that writing.”

“Think again,” he snorted in derision. “My pens are charmed to prevent _exactly_ that from happening.”

He paused, watching as Hermione’s eyes grew a bit wider and her face tinted a darker shade of pink. She knew what was coming. Then he smirked.

“Had to – once I saw the shit you were sending out for review it was necessary.”

Hermione flared with anger, she could physically feel it burning through her veins. She snatched the crumpled paper violently from the desk before she did something she would truly regret and left his office with a slam of his door.


	2. Glow Bugs and Mooncalves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAM! More angry Dramione, this time though, it’s a formal event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates irregularly, perhaps every two weeks on Saturday/Sunday? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

Hermione slunk into her flat much like how a creature about to die would slither into its burrow so that it could be alone while it breathed its last gulp of air.

However, and she debated whether or not this was unfortunate, she wasn’t actually dying. She just sort of wished that she was.

Her bag fell to the ground with a heavy thump, it was the only indication that her backpack might contain more than what was physically possible. She’d given up the purse years ago – it had come out of the war worn battered and disgusting, so she’d upgraded to a slightly larger backpack because, and she stood very firmly on this opinion regardless of how childish Ginny seemed to think it was, backpacks were much more practical. They were easy to carry – they sat on your back after all, and the chances of losing them or dropping them or having them ripped away from you was practically nil.

She’d even invested several galleons on a gorgeous dark faux leather backpack that she thought looked rather professional. She’d ignore the scathing remark Malfoy had given her when he saw her wearing it into work, she opted to flip him the finger over her shoulder instead of responding to ‘ _Really Granger, a fucking backpack? Are you going back to school because you know this career is a dead end and you have no prospects?_ ’ because she knew that he had no idea what the muggle symbol meant. And that in and of itself was extremely satisfying.

She made her way to the kitchen, waving her wand without much focus to start the kettle. She needed caffeine, it was life, it would keep her moving despite the fact that she had been awake for over 24 hours. It would get her through the next ten that she needed to put in at the office before she could come home and crash. After screaming at Malfoy the day before she’d begrudgingly made her way up to the department director’s office to ask for an extension on the Blast-Ended Skrewt proposal and to say that it didn’t go well would have been an understatement. Honestly, she would have rather been hit with Ginny’s bat bogey hex than watch Mr. Todgekins turn purple as his voice continued to rise to supersonic levels. The worst part was that after all the screaming they had both stood in his office with tight grimaces – because they both _knew_ that the proposal and the new requirements to protect Blast-Ended Skrewts was the most absurd thing she’d been asked to do to date, yet he was obligated to ensure that she completed it. And that included the upcoming proposal for the redistribution of land between dugbogs.

She sighed as she sank into the tall bar stool in her kitchen, dropping her head against the raised counter that looked out into the small living room. She could see Artemis sitting there, plump as fucking ever, right in front of the window she left open for him. She greeted him softly, but the owl only continued to stare blankly toward her and she groaned, rolling her forehead to rest against the cold surface. After Crooks had passed away from old age a few years ago she didn’t have the heart to get another animal – but Ron, in his infinite wisdom, had insisted that she get an owl for practical purposes. She suspected it had something to do with the bizarre and unwarranted guilt Ron seemed to habour over the fact that he had a wife and two kids while Hermione was alone.

She snorted. What an absurd concept, she’d really dodged a bullet with him. They’d kissed once in 7th year, during the war no less and yet he still behaved as if they’d had some grand loving relationship and that he had broken her heart by leaving to go directly into Auror training while she returned to school to finish her NEWTS – which effectively ended their ‘relationship’.

So, out of guilt – or perhaps pity? Severe lack of judgement? Honestly who could possibly know with Ron – he had shown up at her flat last Easter with a great fat brown owl, stating that he’d specially picked it for her. She’d reluctantly accepted it, because there really wasn’t anything else she could do, she’d seen the bird at the store two weeks earlier with a _‘final sale’_ sign on its cage.

Artemis proved to be entirely useless after that, he delivered letters if and only when he wanted to and he never went farther than intercity deliveries. He never greeted her, he mostly just ate anything and everything he could get his beak on and sat roundly by the open window she’d charmed for him to keep out the weather but allow him access. He seemed perfectly content to watch the world go by and frankly she couldn’t blame him – he looked like he was a hundred years old. She didn’t mind his lack of company though, she liked being alone. She liked her work. She was happy with her life – for the most part, minus Malfoy, because what she did made a difference in the world and gave her purpose.

She brought her arms up onto the table and placed her chin over her hands. After receiving an extension of one week from Mr. Todgekins she had immediately packed her backpack and left the Ministry, apparating directly to the land that was being proposed for the reserve. She then proceeded to spend the entire night completing a full geo-check, examining the natural gas pocket, trialing some safety wards and mapping the entire area. Her feet ached, she had walked miles upon miles and her arm itched from the bites she’d received while whacking through bush. She knew that her arms and face were riddled with little scratches from the feisty bushes. She needed to heal them, she hadn’t bothered at the time since they seemed to collect on her quicker than flies on shit, but the rock-hard surface of the counter was just so comfortable that she couldn’t bring herself to get up from the stool. She needed to get up, the kettle would be boiled soon and then she needed to take a quick shower and be back to work within the hour. She sighed, her breath clouding the dark surface as her eyes slowly fluttered shut.

A loud screaming whistle woke her with a start and she fell to the floor with a clatter.

“Mother Fucker!” she grabbed at her throbbing elbow as her eyes shot around the kitchen. “Oh my god!”

The kettle was on fire – she’d fallen asleep, the water had boiled down and now the metal kettle was burning on her stove and smoke was pouring from the bright red flames. Her own fire wards were alarming, and had they not worked she would have surely set the entire flat on fire.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” She pulled herself to her feet and extinguished the fire, moved the now blackened kettle into the sink and filled it with water.

Once she was sure that the source was out she rushed into the living room and threw open the remaining windows – guiding the smoke out with her wand and groaning in irritation. When the smoke had cleared, and her heart had finally slowed she turned and glared angrily at the fat owl before her.

“Seriously Artemis! Are you fucking kidding me?! The flat was on _fire_ and you didn’t even leave," the owl simply looked at her blankly and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you were not a _gift_ I would have set you _free_.”

She didn’t bother mentioning that she’d already tried to. She’d thrown the owl out of her window two weeks after she got him, but he only continued to sit on the outside window ledge, pecking at the glass and looking at her with his big stupid adorable eyes. He’d started to draw attention, so she begrudgingly let him back in. Stupid and lazy as he was at least he was loyal – though not loyal enough to do anything in a house fire apparently. She glared at him and then her eye caught the clock on the kitchen wall over the small bar top.

“Shit!” she ran toward the door, stopping only briefly to grab her backpack and then raced down the three flights of her small walkup. Before she burst through the door she cast a quick _scourgify_ on herself and hoped to god that no one would notice she was wearing the same clothes. If she had time, she would transfigure her shirt.

Though as luck would have it, or not have it as it were, she didn’t have time. The apparition point was backed up and she’d been reluctant to modify her outfit in front of random co-workers. So instead she zipped her light autumn jacket up tighter and raced into the office. She was 10 minutes late for her department morning meeting and she grimaced at the thought of being caught sneaking in late after asking for an extension. She ran into the nearest empty elevator and started to close the doors only for them to be pried open by a perfect porcelain hand.

“Rather _rude_ of you Granger, you do know that other people besides yourself work here right? And that the elevators are supposed to be shared? I would have thought that after spending so much time at Weasel’s you’d be used to sharing _everything_.”

A low deep groan seeped between her teeth as she leaned her head back and thumped it against the wall. She did not have the time or the patience to deal with this asshole right now – especially not when she smelled like burnt tea kettle, she was wearing the same clothes from yesterday and she had not showered in 48 hours. As if she needed to give this man any other ammunition to ruin her life.

“I was in a rush _Malfoy,_ some of us have better things to do than saunter around with their coffee in the mornings.”

The elevator jerked backward, making its way toward their office building.

“For your information,” Malfoy sneered at her. “I _just_ got this coffee – I was in a meeting with Potter this morning regarding security concerns for tomorrow’s banquet, _your_ banquet by the way –“

“It’s not _my_ banquet it’s the Annual Remediation Banquet and this year we’re being featured,” she sneered back at him, but he ignored her and just continued speaking over her. A tantalizing smell began to fill the elevator and she realized that it was coming from the paper coffee cup he was holding. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the fact that it was making her salivate.

“So I’ve been here for over two hours already because Potter didn’t have any other time, because _your_ banquet is a logistical fucking nightmare –“ he paused and his eyes narrowed at her as if he was just looking at her properly for the first time since he got into the elevator.

Hermione bit back a groan and turned her eyes away to the ceiling, drumming her fingers against her leg and cursing the fact that their building was in the back. _Don’t fucking say it, don’t fucking say it – just drink your stupid fucking coffee._

“Did you _just_ get here?” a dark satisfied smirk crossed his lips as his nose crinkled in disgust.

“That’s none of your fucking business Malfoy,” she spat, throwing him a deathly glare as her eye twitched. She was too tired for this. She needed caffeine. Well really, she needed sleep, but there was no time for that either.

“What happened to your face – did your latest weekly _charity_ case involve a collection of angry kneazles?”

She groaned outwardly and rolled her eyes, curling her hands into fists and trying to tune out his constant berating chatter. She had so much to do today – she needed to finish updating the proposal so she could get it back to this asshat tomorrow morning because tomorrow she had to go help set-up for the banquet. She was already late, she hadn’t even eaten, and she had to somehow get through the day on no fucking sleep – how was this the start of her morning? Better yet – how was this her life? What had she done in her past to deserve this?

“Are you – is that,” Malfoy faltered slightly as he looked at her in disbelief and then an even larger smirk crossed his face and he stepped into her line of sight, bending slightly at the shoulders to emphasize their height difference so he could talk down to her and mock her more. “Are you still in the same clothes from _yesterday_?”

She clenched her jaw tight, her shoulders tensed, and she forced herself to look away before she slapped the smirk off his stupid face and then beat him to a pulp just because.

“Have you not gone home?” the mocking tone of his voice seemed to ring in her ears and she felt the anger within her burning with rage. “Do you live out of that – _backpack_?”

“Malfoy,” she growled her head tilting back to glare at the ceiling as her knuckles popped from the impossibly tight balls they’d been clenched into.

“You smell like burnt kettle.”

“How the _fuck_ do you know what burnt kettle smells like!” she screamed at him, snapping, finally turning to face him as her shoulders heaved with rage.

He arched a perfect brow at her, the taunting smirk never leaving his face. “Because it’s what you smell like right now.”

“UGHH!” she took a step towards him, not realizing that they were now only a foot apart and spat her next words at him with as much death and hatred as she could muster. “That doesn’t even make any fucking sense Malfoy!”

“Neither does your job, or how you manage to keep it for that matter – but you don’t see me bringing that up," he spat viciously.

Hermione’s mouth opened as a snarl escaped her and she leered up at him on the balls of her feet, jabbing one balled fist into his chest with a thud. “You – are – I – UGHH!”

She couldn’t form a coherent insult, and the smug and pleased expression on his face made her blood boil. He’d won this argument. He hadn’t even flinched when she’d all but punched him in the chest, instead he just continued to smirk down at her like she was the dirt under his ridiculously expensive boots. Her mind was too tired to compete. She was too riddled with exhaustion; a caffeine headache was forming at the back of her brain and it was doing a fantastic job of preventing her from coming up with anything worthwhile to say. She heard the elevator chime ding above her, and she knew that they had reached her floor. She had just lost, and he was reveling in it.

 _I FUCKING HATE YOU_ she screamed internally as she rolled back on to her heels in defeat at the sound of the brass gates opening.

Without thinking, without considering the consequences or even understanding why she did it, except for the obvious reason of: because she damn well wanted to, and it smelled delicious – she snatched the coffee cup from Malfoy’s hand and turned quickly out of the elevator.

“Wha – What the FUCK Granger?!” he spat at her, his eyes going wide momentarily before a look of rage crossed his face.

But the elevator doors had already closed on his face and Hermione turned around with a sneer.

“I need it more than _you_ – think of it as _your_ charity case for the week, _Malfoy_.”

With that she turned and stormed down the hallway to her office, not stopping to look behind her and not slowing when Tracey greeted her and tried to tell her that she was late – what a stupid comment, she was obviously aware that she was late. She dropped her backpack next to her desk and closed and warded her door before she quickly healed the marks on her face and arms, then transfigured her shirt into something slightly different. She took an extra millisecond to pop the tab open on the lid of the coffee that she’d stolen from Malfoy – he hadn’t been lying, he _had_ just gotten it. It was still piping hot and the tab hadn’t been touched.

She took a sip, and fucking hell it was like heaven in her mouth. A low groan seeped between her lips.

“Unnghhh fuck that’s good," she groaned before she inhaled deeply then took another sip. She considered briefly how disturbing her body’s reaction to the coffee was, if anyone was listening they would think she was having an orgasm, but fuck she did not care. She could feel her body tingle, her brain was restarting, she was coming back to life. Even the smell of it woke her senses and made the tension in her shoulders drop.

She opened her eyes after the third long sip and looked at the cup – there was _no_ way that this was coffee from the sad little Ministry café on the main floor. That coffee was burnt sludge and it was only consumed as a last resort. Her eyes widened at the label. It was from the small French muggle bistro two blocks away that she _never_ went too because it was atrociously expensive.

She bit her lip between her teeth as her eyes fluttered closed once more and she savored the taste along her tongue. This was the kind of coffee you brought home to your parents, the kind of coffee that you dreamed about. Letting out a sigh she forced her limbs to move, finding them much more limber than before, and she left her office and snuck quietly into the back of the morning meeting.

-x-x-

“How did you manage to get the mooncalves to agree to dance at midnight?” Ginny asked as she leaned in toward Hermione and brought a crystal glass to her lips. Her dark black dress dipped low at the front, revealing more cleavage than Hermione thought necessary, but somehow it worked on Ginny’s petite frame and didn’t make her look like a trollop. Some people were like that – no matter what you put them in they just looked good and it never came off with any sort of particular vibe.

“You know, just because I am _in_ the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures doesn’t mean that I actually take _care_ of the creatures myself personally – you know that right?” Hermione answered Ginny in a low defeated sigh.

Ginny’s response consisted of a single raised brow as she took a deep sip from her red wine, challenging Hermione to continue to deny her involvement.

“Okay fine – there are wards around the stage to make it look like they are in a field – like their natural habitat. I’ve simulated the ceiling to match the sky outside but created a fake full moon which will come into view at exactly midnight. It took me the better part of a month to develop the charms,” she muttered over her glass. “So when the mooncalves are released onto the stage at 11:30 they will think they are outside in a field, under a full moon, they can’t see the guests or hear us – so they’ll naturally dance. It’s really quite spectacular, I saw them do it two months ago when I went to check on their status.”

“I thought so,” Ginny snorted as she lowered her glass and fixed Hermione with a smug grin. “I knew this was your charm work. I could _feel_ it. Far too precise to have been completed by any of the other dunderheads in your group.”

“Well they were struggling to get it completed and Mr. Todgekins made it _abundantly_ clear that it was a priority,” Hermione’s nose crinkled as she recalled the conversation. “You know we never asked to be featured at this year’s banquet – our team can barely handle the _actual_ work we have, we didn’t need the side project of trying to impress the richest members of wizarding society so that they can feel good about themselves.”

“Oh, I know,” Ginny spoke with disdain. “Mr. Todgekins is all too ready to ask for recognition that _he_ doesn’t deserve – he didn’t even review the mooncalf proposal, yet he is still the honoured guest for the evening while you’ve floated under the radar – yet again.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a sip from her dark glass – she’d never admit it to anyone, but it was straight brandy. Expensive brandy. She wasn’t a drinker, but she hated the unnecessary sugar of mix and she actually liked the taste of most hard liquors. And when she’d spotted the bottle at the bar behind the cheap stuff they were dishing out to most patrons she’d decided to treat herself.

“You know that I don’t care about that shit – I like being _under_ the radar, I don’t want the limelight.”

“I know that,” Ginny sighed as she touched Hermione’s arm gently. “I just thought you might have received a thank you or _some_ kind of recognition for the work you did here to pull this together. I know you’ve been burning the candle at both ends and the middle – _again_. Harry mentioned that he had to wake you up when he went to collect you?”

Hermione groaned and rolled her head back toward the ceiling. “He promised me that he wouldn’t tell you that.”

She had fallen asleep while attempting to get ready for the Friday night Annual Remediation Banquet – because even though she was not a special guest, and even though she still had a million things left to do at work _and_ even though she’d spent her entire day at the venue setting the wards and getting roped into setting up a bunch of other stuff – Mr. Todgekins had made it a requirement that she and her entire department attend.

She spent yesterday running on nothing but Malfoy’s coffee, she somehow managed to avoid him for the entire rest of the day, she didn’t get caught sneaking into work late _and_ she complete her updates on the Blast-Ended Skrewt proposal – mind you she didn’t finish it until 4:30 in the morning, but it was finished for Friday morning nonetheless. She had sank into bed at five, caught two and a half hours of sleep, then showered and ran into the office to leave the updated proposal with Tracey – who would bring it to Malfoy so she didn’t have to. Then she’d run from the Ministry, backpack bouncing on her back like a child, all the way to the venue because the flu network had crashed.

Panting, sweaty and exhausted she spent the entire day setting up until finally at 4pm she dashed back to her flat to get ready. Though, by this point her body was finished with her. She’d ignored its polite yet desperate attempts to get her attention, she’d ignored it’s cries of pain and fatigue, and so it decided to shut her down. She only managed to eat a quick dinner before she passed out on the barstool next to her empty dishes. Harry had arrived promptly at 6pm – he was supposed to come at 6:45 since the event started at 7, but Ginny had sent him over early with a selection of formal dresses while she was getting ready because she’d figured that Hermione wouldn’t have had much time to go and find something to wear. She’d been right. And thus, Harry shook her awake at 6:01 and hurried her into the shower, refusing to leave and come back and instead directing her preparations like he was leading a very serious Auror mission.

“When he didn’t return with you after the first twenty minutes it was pretty obvious that you weren’t ready to go at all – I would have guessed it even if he didn’t tell me. You’re running yourself bloody ragged Hermione,” Ginny looked at her with concern though a small smile danced on her lips.

“Yeah, yeah – I know. I just need to find a way to get our budget increased for next year so we can get some more help. Some _actual_ help. Hey – by the way, where the hell did Harry learn _hair_ charms?” Hermione asked, turning her eyes back to her red headed friend. “As soon as I was out of the shower he was casting charms on my head faster than a Zouwo – I hadn’t even finished my makeup and he was already done and holding up dresses for me to pick from.”

Ginny laughed and a huge grin split across her lips. “I taught him those.”

“Well obviously – but why?”

“You remember two years ago, the _incident_ that happened with the _artifact_?” Ginny asked quietly, eyeing the room around them as Hermione nodded and moved closer. “Well I didn’t know what it was, I got home and he had left it on his desk unattended – now yes, I know that touching something that your Auror husband brings home was probably a stupid idea – but I was still recovering from the bludger to the head and in my defense I was hopped up on potions. So, I picked it up. And it cursed me. And my hands were stuck together in front of me for three days before Harry finally found a way to remove it. I made him learn the spells so he could do my hair before we went to that gala.”

“Is that why your hands were clenched like that the whole night? I thought you were just cold or – I don’t know, I didn’t know what you were doing but the photos from that night turned out hilarious.”

“Yeah – I looked like a real dick when I couldn’t shake the Minister’s hand.”

“Ginny, your dad was acting Minister that night because Shacklebolt was down with dragon pox.”

“Well still – it looked rude when everyone else did it and I just smiled awkwardly. I didn’t want people thinking I thought I was above the formalities just because he’s my dad. Anyway – he knows a few makeup spells now too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hermione smiled and then took a sip of her drink.

“Speaking of Harry – I’m going to go find him quick and see how things are going.”

“Alright – I need to go see Mr. Todgekins anyways – make an appearance as they say. I don’t want him thinking that I skipped out. I’ll meet up with you after though okay?”

“See you soon!” Ginny called as she turned and weaved her way through the crowd towards the far side of the room where Harry was on security detail.

Hermione sighed and looked around the giant ball room, the event was excessive. Three bars, a band playing at the front left corner, a dance floor, a stage for the mooncalf performance, the room was packed with overdressed and financially loaded witches and wizards, and giant windows that overlooked a ridiculously manicured garden lined the wall on her right. The entire room was lit by glow bugs and candles that flickered pleasantly along the ceiling. They had been a nightmare to catch and place. It had taken her a week to prove to the event coordinator that they simply could not capture enough glow bugs to provide adequate lighting for the evening, so they had interspersed candles to make up for the shortage.

The grandiose tradition had started one year after the war ended, it took place on the third Friday of October every year and was the Ministry’s attempt at building bridges, funding programs by schmoozing with donors and highlighting all the wonderful steps they’d taken toward reparations and building a better world for _everyone_. She rolled her eyes. Perhaps if they spent less money on shit like this her own department wouldn’t be in shambles. Though she knew that Shacklebolt’s hands were tied on the matter.

Taking a few tentative steps forward she eyed the crowd in search of her boss, she needed to make sure that he saw her here, but with everyone dressed in such incredibly formal clothing it was tricky to pick people out of the crowd. She’d almost blown past Tracey without recognizing her – the witch was in a sapphire blue muggle evening gown and her normal high ponytail hairdo had been exchanged for long flowing locks.

Inching forward a bit more Hermione ignored the pinch of her toes. She was wearing a set of staggering high heels, black, with red soles. They were Ginny’s and they were extremely expensive. She wasn’t into fashion but even she recognized them for what they were. But they suited the evening gown that she was wearing – another item borrowed from Ginny’s closet and the first dress that Harry had held up for her to try. It only took some minor transfiguration to get it to fit and she was actually quite pleased with how it looked. It hovered just above the floor so she wouldn’t trip, the black fabric was fitted across the chest and waist then loosened out to flow more freely past her hips. The small three-quarter length sleeves added a nice elegant flare while the lower dipped back and off shoulder cut kept her ‘modern’ according to Ginny.

Mostly Hermione just liked it because it didn’t feel like someone was trying to stuff her into sausage casing. She wasn’t large by any means, in fact at only five foot four inches she was quite small – only a stone heavier than Ginny. She just much preferred wearing baggy sweaters and jeans.

Finally, she spotted him. Mr. Todgekins was near the front of the room talking to a rather tall and bird like looking woman. She sighed. Time to do her _job_ and get this over with. She decided that the best way to get there was to slip along the right-hand side of the room, skirting along the windows until she got near the front and could cut across. The center of the room was simply too crowded, and she’d lose sight of him if she ventured in there now.

Making her way along the wall quickly she kept her eyes on Mr. Todgekins, and she didn’t see the older gentleman, who was very intoxicated, stumble into her path. Seconds before they collided her brain registered the movement and she instinctively stepped backward and to the side, hoping to avoid getting ramrodded. But as her left heel took it’s second step, she felt her body collide with something hard, then something cold and wet poured down her back.

 _FUUCCCKKK_ she hissed as the liquid dripped down her exposed back and soaked the back of her dress. She stumbled forward and turned around quickly in apology.

“Shit – I’m so sorry I –“ Hermione’s eyes widened when the figure before her registered in her brain, his perfectly pressed three piece suit, his crisp white shirt, his impeccably placed tie, his angular jaw, his cold blue eyes and his stupid perfect white blonde hair. Then her eyes narrowed into evil slits of hatred and rage consumed her, switching off the logical side of her brain. “FUCK! What are you doing?!”

“What am _I_ doing?!” Malfoy spat back at her, his face livid with anger. “ _You_ bumped into _me_ – or have you suffered from a recent head injury and can no longer recall short term memories!”

“You poured your drink down my _back_!” Hermione yelled at him, jabbing a finger into his chest and stepping forward into his space.

Why was it, she wondered in the back of her mind as she yelled at him, that she can’t have nice things? That this asshole was everywhere? Why did he always show up and ruin things? Why couldn’t she just have this one night away from him? It was bad enough that she had to be here in the first place and now her back and dress were soaking wet.

“Because you _smashed_ into my fucking _hand,_ Granger! I wouldn’t waste perfectly good scotch on _you_!” he sneered, stepping into her pointed finger and leering down at her. “I wouldn’t even waste the bog water that your precious dugbogs are fighting over on you.”

Hermione growled as she felt a new wave of anger wash through her at the idea of having to work with Malfoy yet again on that stupid upcoming project.

“ _You_ – are a fucking asshole!” she spat at him, refusing to back away or be intimidated by his tall overbearing presence.

Malfoy opened his mouth to reply but stopped, his eyes darted to her hand and before she even realized what was happening, he swiped the brandy from her grasp and backed away. She stumbled forward; she hadn’t realized just how hard she had been jabbing her finger into his chest. Somehow, she managed not to fall over and glared up at him in time to see him smirk at her and take a giant gulp from her glass. She froze, her heart faltering in her chest as her anger reached an entirely new level.

“ _That’s mine_ ,” her voice was low and dark. That glass of brandy had cost her more money than she would ever care to admit. It had been _hers_. Her treat. Her little gift to herself for getting through this week of hell and setting up the venue.

“You stole my coffee – consider this your payment,” he sneered then took another large swig. “Though I never pegged you as an alcoholic – fuck, Granger, no wonder you’re such a mess.”

Hermione lunged forward, forgetting she was in 3-inch heels and wearing a formal dress at a significant banquet. She reached for the glass with a snarl as he raised it above his head and grabbed her shoulder to push her down so that she could not reach it. She had just grabbed hold of the front of his shirt in a tight fist, her chest brushing against his as she attempted to jump to get her glass when suddenly two rough hands appeared from nowhere – one grabbing Hermione tightly by the shoulder while the other grabbed Malfoy by the neck and they were both dragged then tossed outside onto the small balcony of the venue. Hermione stumbled forward, her hand touching the ground briefly before she righted herself and turned around to see Harry looking at her sternly, single brow arched, with both hands crossed over his chest.

He was looking at them like they were children.

“If you two cannot stop yourselves from _screaming_ bloody murder at each other for a _single_ night, then do it outside and _NOT_ at the function where we are celebrating our accomplishments with prominent donors.”

“I _am_ a prominent donor,” Malfoy spat, his nose was crinkled in irritation. The jacket of his suit had gotten rumpled when he was tossed outside yet the brandy remained unspilled in his hand.

“Right _now_ – you’re a problem,” Harry stated factually completely unfazed by Malfoy’s anger

Hermione snorted at Malfoy’s indignant expression and then Harry’s eyes flashed to her.

“And so are _you_ ,” he shot at her before his eyes softened and he glanced to the sky with a sigh. “Now, either fight it out or calm the fuck down – because you’re not going back inside until you do.”

Harry turned back to the open balcony doors and Malfoy’s attention returned to Hermione, his face twisting into a sneer as if to start screaming at her again but then he stiffened. They had both been expecting Harry to return to the banquet and close the doors behind him. Instead he had simply closed the doors and turned back around to face them with his arms crossed lazily over his chest once more, giving them an amused yet worn look as Ginny stood by his side.

“What?” Hermione asked after an awkward silence lingered across the balcony. Her eyes were narrowed at Harry, she didn’t understand why he was still standing there.

“Oh, don’t mind me, please do carry on,” he said dryly, his voice almost nonchalant. “I’m only here to make sure that neither one of you ends up with anything worse than a black eye or a few broken bones.”

Malfoy’s eyes flicked to Ginny, she seemed to be trying not to smile.

“Oh, I’m just here to watch the show,” she laughed, taking a sip of her drink and leaving it hovering before her lips. “I can never say no to free entertainment.”

Hermione closed her eyes and let out a low deep exhale. She wanted to smack Malfoy. She wanted her drink back. She wanted to punch him in the gut so he’d spit it back out, then she would sneer at him and walk away. But with Harry and Ginny standing there watching them like zoo animals she felt a bit ridiculous, and now she just wanted to go home and go to bed. She opened her eyes to see Malfoy glaring at her and both of their eyes narrowed.

He was glowering at her, his eyes were practically sparkling with anger. The rage that had briefly subsided from Harry’s interruption reignited as she stared at his obnoxiously perfect face – hating everything about him and feeling the dread of knowing that she would need to see him first thing Monday morning to discuss the proposal edits. The air grew tight around them as they both clenched their fists and silently seethed – neither one of them willing to embarrass themselves in front of Harry and throw a punch.

“I fucking hate you,” the words came from her lips as a dark low whisper, and she meant them with every fiber of her being.

He smirked, then his expression changed into a dangerous smile as his eyes darkened and he took three slow predatory steps towards her. Closing the space so they stood less than a foot apart. He glared down at her and she glared back up at him, the tension between them growing until she could hear it buzzing in her ears. Then, he raised her glass and tipped the entire remaining contents of her giant glass of brandy into his mouth and consumed it with a single swallow.

Her eye twitched.

“The feeling is mutual,” he said lowly, leaning down so the words were almost a whisper of hatred across her face.

A small groan escaped her lips as he thrust the empty glass into her stomach with more force than necessary and her hands quickly moved to close around it so it wouldn’t fall. She felt her right index finger brush against his pale cool skin before he released the glass and turned swiftly to leave the balcony. She stood rigid on spot. Her heart was racing with rage as her breath came in low, silent heaves. Slowly she turned her head to look down at the empty glass, _her_ empty glass, and her hand clenched around it so tightly it shattered.

As the glass fell to the floor she jerked her head toward the open doorway, but Malfoy had already vanished into the crowd.


	3. Pygmy Puffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – Hermione has a wtf how and why did this happen moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates irregularly, perhaps every two weeks on Saturday/Sunday? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

Hermione yawned deeply, a satisfying stretch moving through her body from head to toe as she lifted her arms above her and drew it out. She’d passed out at 8pm the previous night and slept for a solid 12 hours, it was probably the most sleep she’d gotten in months and damn did it feel good.

After Ginny had healed the small cuts on her fingers from breaking the glass on the balcony and Harry dried her dress, she’d headed back inside with the couple and managed to _almost_ enjoy the evening. The mooncalves had danced at precisely midnight as planned and the audience had lost their minds over it. Apparently, most witches and wizards had never bothered to venture out into the fields at night to watch the performance, so Hermione hoped that it might result in favorable donations or project funding for her department. Though, she severely doubted it. But thankfully, somehow, the world seemed to spare her and she managed not to run into Malfoy for the remainder of the night. She didn’t even catch a glimpse of his blond head and she wondered if perhaps he had left the event entirely.

Saturday, she had forced herself to get up early and begin work on the next three proposals. She did not want to give Malfoy any more opportunities to cut her down or belittle her work, so she worked diligently all day, stopping only to eat and feed Artemis. It had been a long and brutal day of research, writing and charm development – but by 7:30 she felt proud of her work and she ate a late dinner then crawled into bed. Now laying her in her fluffy duvet with the cool autumn breeze whisking across her face from the window open next to her bed she felt fantastic. Thoughts of Malfoy had finally vanished from her head and today she would finally allow herself to take a break while she caught up with Ginny for coffee and then went to visit the boys at the joke shop.

It had been a while since she’d seen them so when Ginny suggested stopping by after coffee she couldn’t say no, even though she would rather the visit be just with George and not include Ron. Unfortunately though, Ron worked with George so it was difficult to see one without the other.

He’d dropped out of Auror training after only eight months - apparently Ron didn’t realize that becoming an Auror involved more than just wand waving and a hunger for adventure. It was a difficult program, it involved immense amounts of book work, memorization, studying, physical training, time management, high skill level across most subjects and dedication and secrecy. Ron didn’t have most of those skills and the ones that he did have were severely lacking. So, he decided that it wasn’t worth the effort and he quit to help George with the joke shop – and Harry continued the three year program on his own.

Harry had graduated at the top of his class and earned himself an immediate job in the Ministry under the supervision of Shacklebolt’s old protégé. Hermione suspected that his success was not only due to his own skill, but the fact that he _wasn’t_ paired up with Ron and subjected to the boy’s bad study habits. Ginny had been a good support system as well and had helped Harry practice his defense while Hermione quizzed him for exam prep.

She and Ginny had proudly attended his graduation together, cheering as he crossed the stage and then forcing him to attend an after party at the Leaky Cauldron with a small group of friends. At the time she had been finishing up her charms apprentice ship and studying wizarding law – all while balancing a part time internship at the Ministry which then led her to her current job. Despite the fact that those days had been crazy busy, stressful and difficult, she often found herself reminiscing over them fondly. It was a wonderful time, everyone working hard to find their place in the world, struggling to come into their own while learning and growing and strengthening their bonds. She sighed fondly and rolled out of bed, knowing that she needed to get up and get ready or she would be late for coffee with Ginny.

-x-x-

Hermione sat comfortably at a small table outside of the cafe, she had selected it because it was farthest away from the noisy chatter of the inside patrons and because it was right up against the outside low metal railing that separated them from the busy street. It was the perfect people watching spot and yet far enough away to be quiet. She closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh, feeling calm and relaxed for the first time in ages. The air was crisp, it had that autumn smell – the one that she could never describe but absolutely loved. Where the air just somehow felt fresher because it came from the North with a chill and hinted at winter, yet the sun was still warm, so you weren’t yet freezing. It was bliss. Her most favourite weather, and with her warm comfortable thick sweater and scarf she felt like she was in heaven – soon to be with a piping hot cup of coffee as well, which was like putting a cherry on top of her autumn bliss.

She was just letting her shoulders roll back and enjoying the sound of the wind when something hard struck her across the crown of her head and her eyes jolted open to see a thick red folder.

 _What the fuck?_ she reached up and pushed the folder away from her face only to find herself staring at the only man in the world she could say that she truly hated.

To anyone more than ten feet away who didn’t know who they were, they might have thought that a tall handsome wizard leaning casually against the low metal railing while playfully swatting a pretty little witch with a folder was an act of flirtatious teasing. That the low dark smile across his perfect lips was playful, that Hermione’s wide eyes were ones of pleasant shock as she looked up into the cool air around them and saw the man that she had been crushing on for weeks. ‘ _How endearing and cute’_ they would say ‘ _I wonder if they’re a couple_ ’ they would whisper to their friend as they walked by.

But in reality, the situation could not have been anything farther from that. A low growl escaped Hermione as her face instantly went from peaceful bliss to scowling discontent, and the dark smile on Malfoy’s lips only deepened into a smirk.

“What the _fuck_ Malfoy! Why are you here?!” she spat at him as her hands now closed around the folder and she tugged it from his firm pale grip. He held onto it for a moment, watching her struggle until he finally let go and her hands went careening into her chest with a thump.

“Obviously,” he raised a coffee which he had been holding in his other hand. “I’m trying to repair the brain damage I incurred from reading _that_.”

Hermione glanced down at the folder and recognized it – it was the updated Blast-Ended Skrewt proposal. Her eyes narrowed before she glared back up at him.

“Malfoy,” came Ginny’s calm and polite greeting as she approached the table with two coffee’s in hand.

“Weasley,” Malfoy replied politely, his eyes flicking to the redhead before they returned swiftly to Hermione’s angry face.

“Your life must be pretty fucking sad if you spent your weekend doing work – is it because you’re so terrible at your job that you can’t keep up, or just because you have no social life at all?” the words came from Hermione without a second thought, though in the back of her mind she wasn’t sure why she was antagonizing him, she wanted him to leave, not to engage and continue leaning casually on the iron fence beside her. Yet when she saw the corner of his eye twitch she couldn’t help but feel a small flash of triumph.

“Unfortunately I have no control over the level of effort _you_ put into your _proposals_ Granger,” Malfoy said stiffly, his eyes darkening with anger. “Or lack there of, as in your typical fashion. And since _your_ banquet –“

“The Annual Remediation Banquet –“ Hermione cut in as he continued overtop of her anyways.

“– required as much time as it did, I had no choice but to ruin my Saturday sifting through your trash while trying not to go brain dead. Though, if you’d _prefer_ – I’d be happy to stop reviewing them in their entirety.”

His last words were dark and vicious and the indirect threat hung heavy in the air. Hermione’s hands tightened on the folder before her as she swallowed the urge to jump up from the table and push him off the railing.

Malfoy could, and no doubt would, make her life worse. He could refuse to review and sign off on her proposals entirely – he had the authority to do so and she knew it. It was honestly the only reason why she had tolerated his harassment and why she forced herself to work painfully through his critiques (some valid, some not) because eventually the work would get done and he would sign it off. But there was actually nothing stopping him from point blank refusing to do it, and honestly Hermione suspected that no one in the Ministry would care. Her budget had already been sliced, she was constantly refused decent help, and most wizards and witches didn’t truly care about the wellbeing of other species. If he stopped working with her all together, she wasn’t sure what would happen – though she doubted anything would change for him, he would still have his job.

She glanced down at the folder in her hands. A feeling of overwhelming anxiety hitting her like a bus. What had he written in here? What had he criticized now? She had been so careful while she updated it, she’d lost days of sleep and nearly killed herself to finish it – what could she have possibly missed? Why did the folder somehow feel heavier now than when she gave it to him? Did he add to it?

The questions raced rapidly in her head until suddenly the folder was wrenched from her fingers and she was pulled from her dazed stupor.

“Ginny!” she yelled, reaching forward and trying to grab it from her petit redheaded friend. “The fuck, give it back I _need_ that!”

“Absolutely not,” Ginny sat back in her chair and tucked the folder into her purse. “You are _not_ reading it _now_. Drink your coffee and calm down – you can have it back later.”

“Ginny,” Hermione seethed, trying to ignore the smug amusement that was playing on Malfoy’s lips to her left. Why the asshole hadn’t left yet was beyond her. “It’s due this week I need to go through it to make sure that Malfoy didn’t air bomb it to death again.”

“And you can do that later,” Ginny said calmly as she picked up her coffee and gave a polite smile to Malfoy before returning her attention to Hermione. “You already went bushwhacking through the night last week on this stupid proposal – right now is coffee time, and look – if you promise to drop the proposal for now, I promise to go see that book history thing with you.”

“Books Through History,” Hermione corrected, but she stilled in her seat and she looked at Ginny cautiously, carefully – forgetting that Malfoy was still present.

Ginny hated museums, yet she was offering to go with her to the muggle museum to see the exhibit on books. She could feel her hopeful yet weary heart beat with anticipation in her chest. She wasn’t sure if she could contain her excitement, but she wasn’t sure she could handle the devastation if Ginny was lying. People had made her offers like this in the past and then they’d betrayed her.

“Really?” she said quietly, her eyes darting over Ginny’s amused looking face, searching for any hints of a lie.

“Really,” Ginny gave her a sincere smile. “We can go right after we go see George and Ron.”

“You promise?” Hermione might have felt embarrassed about Malfoy witnessing the exchange if she remembered that he was there, though she also didn’t exactly care about his opinion. She sounded like a child being offered a compromise for good behaviour and she knew that her eyes were bright with excitement as she looked at Ginny and clutched the napkin before her tightly.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Okay,” Hermione breathed out in relief and a huge grin split across her lips.

“Pfft,” Malfoy snorted and stood from the railing. The noise brought Hermione back to her surroundings with a crash and her smile faded into a scowl as she turned and glared at him. “The exhibit was poorly done – it’s missing several obvious decades of key works, the displays are lacking basic details and information – and the tickets are overpriced. Weasley tell Potter that Monday’s meeting was bumped to Wednesday in anticipation of Granger’s inadequate proposal requiring more of my time.”

“Okay, see you Malfoy,” Ginny waved to his back as he sauntered away into the streets of Diagon Alley.

“Why do you do that?” Hermione groaned as she dropped her head into her hands and peered at her friend between her fingers.

“Do what?” Ginny looked confused as she took a sip from her coffee.

“That!” Hermione gestured between Ginny and Malfoy who was now barely visible in the crowd. “Be _nice_ to him, tolerate him – he still calls you Weasley.”

“Okay well first, and you know this Hermione – my last name _is_ Weasley. Harry and I both agreed that I wouldn’t change it while playing professional quidditch and that I would change it later just before we have kids. So – he is technically still correct. Besides, most people who know me from school still call me Weasley. And Second – because he has been nothing but polite and cordial to me and Harry since the trials ended –“

“He’s a fucking asshole to _me_ ,” Hermione glared at her friend. “Does that mean nothing?”

“No, it does – I’m not saying that whatever is going on between the two of you is okay. I know that he started it but Hermione – and don’t blow up at me for saying this – you also respond to it. You instigate him when you can and you’re just as nasty to him.”

“So, you’re saying this is my fault?!” she stared at her friend in disbelief.

“Fuck – _no! Ugh_ see this is why Harry said not to say anything about this –“

“ _Harry_ thinks it’s my fault too! What the fuck Ginny I–“

“NO!” Ginny reached across the table and grabbed Hermione’s hand as she let out a deep exhausted sigh. “That is absolutely NOT what I’m saying. Malfoy was an asshole in school, to all of us – and he _is_ still an asshole to you. I’m not denying it, I’m not cutting him any slack and I’m not saying he isn’t in the wrong. I’m just saying that you are as quick to blow up at him, lash out and attack him as he is to you. And yes, I know it started as a response to what _he_ initiated – but Hermione, love, it has progressed so far past that now. You two search each other out like heat seeking missiles _just_ so that you can attack each other.”

Hermione frowned at her friend, trying to rationally process the words that she was saying but struggling to do so. Her anger was still seething from the encounter with Malfoy and it clouded her brain.

“Fine,” Hermione said stiffy, eyeing her friend with some annoyance.

She knew that Ginny was right and she _hated_ hearing it out loud. She had, very easily, fallen into step with Malfoy and their vicious exchanges.

It was like second nature to her, like breathing and the snide remarks and comments flowed fluidly from her tongue. He had almost become an outlet for her inner burning rage and frustrations with life – though she did her best to ignore that fact. She couldn’t believe she was admitting it to herself right now but she did initiate and instigate the encounters just as much as he did. Even this morning – sure he had hit her on the head with the folder, but she had been the one to launch the verbal sparring without even realizing it. She groaned, her only last thread of hope for thinking this somehow wasn’t partially her fault was by focusing on how it all started.

“But _he_ still started it.”

“Yes, he did,” Ginny smiled at her and squeezed her hands as she hesitated. “But most of his comments on that proposal were fair, unnecessarily rudely worded perhaps – but the points themselves were valid.”

Hermione stiffened in her chair and she clenched her jaw. She’d forgotten that she had shown the document to Ginny in a fit of rage and disbelief. Memories of yelling the words ‘ _can you fucking believe what he wrote! Who does this asshole think he is_ ’ floated back to the front of her mind.

“Even if that is true,” Hermione said, knowing perfectly well that it was true, but she appreciated that Ginny only nodded and didn’t comment on it any further. “It still doesn’t excuse him from being an asshole about it.”

“You’re right. He is a prick – Everyone knows that,” Ginny smiled and took her hands away, reaching back for her coffee and relaxing into her chair. Then a pensive expression came over her face. “I wonder if he’s so rude and uptight because he is worried about failing – He never asked to be put in that role from what Harry told me, I don’t think he had a choice. Alright – enough Malfoy for one morning, drink your coffee and let’s go see the boys.”

Hermione nodded, grabbing her cup and taking a deep sip before engaging in life chit chat with Ginny about broad general topics – but in the back of her mind thoughts of Malfoy continued to circle.

By the time she had gotten home her anger was once again a raging inferno. Visiting with George had been pleasant – the joke shop was doing well, Angelina was pregnant with their first child and lunch with them had been lovely. Ron on the other hand – was irritating and sickeningly kind. He performed his classic Ron-mannerisms of asking how Hermione’s work was and touching her arm politely with a sympathetic look while he told her that she worked too hard. He told her that she should come by and visit with his wife and kids some time because she looked _lonely_. It had taken an immense amount of self-control not to smack him across the face and tell him to fuck off.

Though that was not the worst part of her day. The worst part was going to the 'Books Through History' exhibit with Ginny – and not because Ginny moaned or groaned or complained even once. Quite the opposite in fact, Ginny had been the perfect attendee. She asked Hermione about the rules of muggle museums, she looked at the books curiously, she read the pamphlet and signs with interest and even bought the tickets once Hermione helped her count out the muggle money.

What had been devastating, was that Malfoy had been right. The exhibit _was_ poorly done. It _was_ missing several obvious decades of key works, the displays _did_ lack basic details and information, _and_ the tickets were overpriced. As she wandered through the quiet room where the museum featured several different rotating displays a year she couldn’t help but feel like she was walking around with a stone in her chest.

So when Ginny finally returned the red folder to her, and she got home, she threw it down on the small bartop counter and dropped her head onto the surface with a thud.

 _“Whhhyyyyyyyy,”_ she groaned, pouting miserably to herself and turning to look up at Artemis who was fluffed out fat and enjoying the night view. “Why Artemis? Why does he _ruin_ everything – I can’t even stand him.”

Of course, Artemis had no opinion on the matter and simply continued to stare blankly at the park across the street. So, begrudgingly, Hermione lifted her head, forced herself to make dinner and then began reading through the thick red folder. To no one’s surprise, it was once again riddled with red ink. He’d inserted new pages into the folder that were covered with scribbled charm work examples that outlined modification to the ones she’d proposed as a shield around the natural gas pocket. Her fingers clenched when she saw the remark:

_‘Fucking hell Granger – you didn’t even consider any sort of alarm or monitoring system? It’s not like you have the budget to have personnel physically go there and inspect the wards every few weeks. You need a way of checking their condition remotely. I would have thought that would be obvious.’_

Of course she had fucking thought of it – she just hadn’t finished developing the charm work, it was ninety percent complete and sitting on her desk at work. She’d planned to include it in the final draft.

 _Asshole!_ she thought as she packed the report into her backpack and then made her way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Rage poured out of her in the form of vicious angry teeth brushing. Her parents would be ashamed – she was damaging her gums and enamel, but all she could think about was seeing that stupid blonde’s face the next day.

-x-x-

Monday morning turned into a blur, she’d arrived on time, feeling well rested and she’d intended to go see Malfoy right away to work through his comments so that she could get the proposal finished. But instead she’d been hauled into Mr. Todgekins’ office by surprise and commended for her efforts on the banquet set-up. Apparently, the mooncalf dance had been so impressive that a donor had signed an agreement to fund their project for the next 6 years, which meant that her budget was no longer stretched thinner than pantyhose and she might actually be able to bring on a new assistant – maybe.

Mr. Todgekins had been very clear that he still needed to run the numbers to confirm that a new hire would be viable and he said he would be following up on it and letting her know in the next few weeks. The entire exchange in his office had felt weird and awkward. Hermione had never been one to accept praise well, which was ironic because she craved it like air, but it was awkward because they both knew that the praise was below board and that Hermione wouldn’t actually receive any recognition for the event - Mr. Todgekins would. She grimaced a smile at him and shook his sweaty hand, then made her way back to her office in the hopes of going to M-PaS to see Malfoy – but on her way she’d been bombarded with nothing but pink.

One of the last proposals they worked on involved invoking regulations on the illegal mill breeding of pygmy puffs for pets. The newly passed regulation required that breeders have a license and that their facilities be inspected on a yearly basis. In the event that the Ministry was notified of illegal breeding operations an agent would be sent out to assess the situation and then seize any creatures deemed to be living in unsuitable situations.

The regulation was great, and Hermione was very proud of it.

However, apparently a new agent had been misinformed on the procedure related to placement of confiscated creatures and they’d brought a batch of 400 newly seized pygmy puffs directly to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures instead of bringing them to the Creature Care Center outside the city.

How on earth they had managed to get the 400 pygmy puffs inside a single crate in the first place was beyond her, but more importantly – why Anton had thought it was a good idea to open the thing and look inside was another. The pygmy puffs were _everywhere_. They were scavenging for food in the garbages, climbing into desk drawers, trying to escape through the windows, getting into the air ducts and hiding in the filing cabinets. It had taken Hermione the entire morning to round them up with the help of Tracey, a very apologetic Anton and Ginny – who she called in for back-up assistance because she knew her friend had the day off.

It wasn’t until after 2pm that she _finally_ made her way to M-PaS to confront Malfoy and sort through the comments. By this time her conversation with Ginny the day before regarding her own behaviour was long forgotten, her temper was flaring, and her energy was all but gone. Slowly she made her way down the long hallway towards his office, ignoring the smirk his secretary gave her as she pushed his door open without knocking and stepped inside. She heard a giggle behind her as Daphne called over another coworker to come sit on her desk and watch the show. Without giving it a second thought Hermione glared harshly at the two girls then stepped into the office further and slammed the door behind her and silenced it.

“ _Really_ Granger, was that necessary? Or do you happen to be part troll too?” Malfoy was staring at her with a single raised brow, quill poised on his parchment and looking irritated.

“I’m tired of your fucking staff treating our meetings like a joke and anxiously watching from the door like I’m some kind of spectacle,” Hermione growled in response and moved to drop the red folder on his desk with a heavy thud.

“Well maybe if you didn’t behave like an _animal_ , they wouldn’t have reason to regard you as such,” he said dryly, his eyes glancing down at the folder before looking back to her with annoyance. “I thought you’d have been by earlier with this – or were you just late _again_ today, perhaps nursing a bad hangover.”

Hermione felt herself physically bristle at his loaded response, he’d attacked her on three fronts without batting an eye and she was too tired to deal with him. She grit her teeth and clenched back a snide comment, deciding to try and circumvent his attack with a level response.

“I wasn’t late I was delayed by Mr. Todgekins and a pygmy puff incident – and perhaps if you weren’t such a consistent and irritating prat I wouldn’t feel the need to scream at you every second of every day. And for the record – I’m _not_ an alcoholic, I don’t usually drink, I just happen to like the taste of brandy and _that_ was a special treat that I bought for myself after managing to scrape together the mooncalf performance,” the words came out tight between her teeth and even she could hear her barely restrained anger. Not exactly as level as she had been hoping for, but at least _she_ hadn’t attacked _him_.

Malfoy stared at her for a moment, he seemed to be calculating before he responded. “That’s what all alcoholics say – anyway, I heard the mooncalf performance gained you some coin so at least this absurd proposal won’t single handedly bankrupt your department – though, I anticipate that your upcoming dugbog proposal will quickly make up the difference."

"Says the man who downed an entire glass of brandy in less than two minutes without batting an eye – really rich Malfoy,” Hermione spat, knowing full well that she was falling back into the familiar old habit of taking his bait. “Stop worrying about my department’s budget – if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were genuinely concerned.”

“I’m not,” he said as his eyes narrowed, and she could see his own anger starting to grow at her call out.

“Then stop fucking bringing it up and keep your comments on the actual proposal content – which by the way,” she said as she strolled forward and pushed the chair in front of his desk aside so she could stand there. She refused to sit before him like a lesser and would instead stand before him and speak down to him. “I _did_ consider the charm work for an alert system – I’m not a fucking moron. I had a draft of it on my desk and was going to include it in the final proposal.”

“If you had something worked out then why wouldn’t you include it in the file?” Malfoy said as he stood from his chair and rested both hands on his desk. He knew exactly what she was doing and refused to have her yell down at him. “I spent most of my fucking Saturday morning drafting that up because I assumed you must be too incompetent to do it yourself – which is pretty fucking _sad_ since you majored in charms! If you had something then, you should have added it to the _file_!”

“It wasn’t finalized!” she yelled at him, her rage growing. “Why the fuck would I add in something incomplete – you’d just bleed all over it and crucify me for any tiny little error. I hadn’t checked it yet, so I left it out!”

“So you were planning on having me review this _entire_ proposal _again_?! Because you _still_ weren’t finished?! How much fucking time do you think I have Granger?!” his eyes were livid as he stared at her, his voice was anguished with disdain.

“I’m working on the fucking thing myself Malfoy! It was all I could get done by _your_ Friday deadline – there was no way I was going to miss it and then listen to you bitch about that too!”

“Fucking hell, Granger!” Malfoy spat as he pushed back from his desk in frustration. “I don’t have fucking _time_ to keep reading the same fucking shit if it isn’t completed! You could have just said it wouldn’t be ready until Monday – but you weren’t smart enough to think of that? I wasted my ENTIRE fucking Saturday reviewing this!”

He picked up the folder angrily before dropping it back down on the desk.

 _“Right_ – like you would have given me a fucking extension,” Hermione said snidely, and his silent glare in response was the only confirmation she needed. “I thought so. I’m sorry that my _inability_ to be in three places at once is such an inconvenience to you, I had to set up that fucking mooncalf show after spending all of Wednesday night mapping out the sanctuary and updating the proposal with what I had! You’re not the only one who works weekends Malfoy.”

“Is that what Weasley meant by bushwhacking?! Fuck Granger – use your _resources_ to do shit like that,” he had at some point during the exchange moved around the desk and was now leaning against it in front of her looking positively livid. “And you could have fucking fooled me – it looked like you were having a pretty grand old time _not_ working this weekend.”

Hermione’s eye twitched as her hands balled into fists and she stepped forward. “ _That_ was the first Sunday in over three months that I haven’t worked! And after you _ruined_ my Friday night and stole the one good thing I had out of my hands I decided that coffee sounded like a good fucking idea so that I didn’t come in here today and strangle you with my bare hands! And you ALREADY know I don’t have _resources_ , so stop making it sound like I’m a fucking idiot who can’t prioritize my work!”

“I’m not making it _sound_ like anything,” Malfoy said darkly as he pushed off the desk and took a step towards her. “I’m just stating it like it is – I thought you liked _facts_ Granger. So how was your weekend – was the exhibit as _wonderful_ as you so pathetically wanted it to be?”

His words were cold and malicious and she knew he was only baiting her further. He wanted her to admit that the exhibit had sucked, they both knew it did, he had been right – but she didn’t want to give him that satisfaction.

“The exhibit was _fine_ ,” she said darkly, her voice low and quivering with anger at his mocking raised brow. He knew she was lying, and his smug enjoyment made her want to cut him deep. “The better question is why the fuck did you go see it? A _muggle_ museum – really Malfoy? I thought you wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like that, what was it – lingering requirements of your parole that you have to go and learn about muggle culture?”

His eyes twitched and he stilled, and for a moment Hermione wondered if she’d gone too far. He took another step toward her, but she held her ground, refusing to show any sign of weakness. She kept her eyes fixated unblinkingly on him.

“Don’t mistake my hatred of _you_ as a reflection of my broader opinions, _Granger_ ,” he sneered at her viciously. “Just because you’re pissed that your Sunday afternoon _sucked_ as much as that exhibit did – don’t come in here and ruin my Monday.”

“ _I’m_ ruining _your_ Monday?!” she said in disbelief as her fists clamped tighter and she resisted the urge to punch him. “ _You_ are ruining my _entire_ fucking life! With your constant shitty attitude and your nasty comments – you’ve delayed every single one of my proposal since the second you walked into this office!!”

“ _Only_ because your proposals are written like they came from a Hufflepuff in second year! You never include all the details, you never analyze every situation and yet you just expect that I will blindly approve them!!” he yelled at her as his own fists clenched at his sides. “And what I can’t figure out – is if you’re actually _THAT_ fucking stupid, or if you’re just so fucking _arrogant_ that you think you don’t need to! That you think you don’t need to work to the same level of care and standards as everyone else here because you’re _'Granger'!_ But no matter how I slice that cake I still end up shoveling the shit that you leave on my desk! So _YES_! You are ruining my Monday _AND_ every other fucking day that I have to deal with you!”

Hermione’s mouth fell open at the outrageousness of his statement, her eyes burning with rage as she stepped forward unconsciously, leaving only a single foot between them. Any hopes of having a logical conversation or deescalating the situation had flown out the window the second he had insinuated that she, Hermione Granger, would complete subpar work because she thought that she was better than her peers – because she thought that she was entitled to anything.

She had been working her ass off since the day she was born. _Nothing_ was ever given to her and she _never_ took short cuts. It was an insult to her on such a fundamental level that she felt something inside of her snap.

“ _You_ – think that _I –_ that I believe I don’t have to work as hard! You _fucking_ PRICK!” she screamed the word at him and launched her balled fist at his chest. His hand caught around her wrist tightly, not blocking the impact but dampening it slightly and lessening the satisfying thud that it made on contact. He used his grip to push her backward so that her back hit the office wall next to the door.

“Then I guess you _are_ just that stupid,” he spat with venom, his head bent low as he stared down at her in anger.

“I’m not fucking _stupid_ Malfoy!” she growled at him as she tried to tug her wrist away from him only to be pushed harder against the wall as he crowded her space. He was looming over her, taunting her, driving her absolutely crazy with anger. His own rage was pouring from his eyes as he glared at her mockingly.

“Then you’re lazy – or maybe you’re incompetent and just have no _fucking_ idea what a decent proposal looks like.”

“You fucking piece of shit,” she shoved against him harder. “I’m not lazy! I’m fucking drowning in my department and I don’t have time to write everything down! You’re not a fucking genius Malfoy – what, did you think that you were so _clever_ that you’re the _only_ one who could come up with those comments! Most of them I _already_ have resolved, they’re just not finalized but they get captured in the end project!”

It was true, aside from the Blast-Ended Skrewt proposal, which was mostly an outlier – the information missing from proposals was because she did not have the time to include it. Though she always kept track of everything in her head and ensured that when the proposals went through she caught everything before the project was finalized. He was right – her proposals were subpar, but they were only subpar on _paper_. They were perfectly fine in her head. She’d done it out of necessity – because she did not have enough time to flush it out properly and eat, and sleep, and keep her job, and get her work done. But admitting it – especially to Malfoy was like swallowing acid.

“So you’re just knowingly giving me crap?!” he looked livid as his voice rang out in the office. “ _FUCK_ I hate you! You and your stupid proposals are driving me crazy!”

He was screaming and ranting at her now and Hermione’s anger was only doubled by the fact that he still had a firm hold on her wrist, preventing her from smacking him again because he knew that she would.

“Fuck you!” she spat, cutting off his angry rant. Rage was blinding her, she pushed against him once more as she tried to wriggle her hand free between them. The heaviness of the silenced room and her rushing blood pressure was thudding in her ears as she was unable to retrieve her hand so she instead tried to punch him with her left hand.

He narrowly missed her hit, turning his jaw just in time before an angry snarl cut through his lips and he shoved her hard against the wall. His left hand caught hers, she jerked her arms against him but he held on tightly.

Angry obscenities poured with venom from both of their mouths as she shoved against him and he tried to hold her steady and prevent her from smacking him again. Their voices grew louder and more ferocious until they were only inches apart, screaming at each other and then suddenly – she felt his lips against hers.

It was rough, angry, vicious – like no other kiss she’d ever experienced.

Her brain stalled, she felt the incessant chatter that _always_ filled her head go instantly silent as her body reacted. He shoved her hard into the wall and a low deep groan flowed from her mouth at the impact as she grabbed at the front of his white shirt, pulling him forward by the collar and wrinkling the fabric.

She could feel every inch of his hard chest against hers as his lips moved wickedly over hers. He bit her lip, it stung, and she bit him back as her whole body tingled. A shiver ran down her spine as her mouth opened wider, it felt like electricity and it resonated somewhere deep within her. She swallowed his rage like oxygen, she gripped at his shoulder as painfully tight as she could – wanting it to hurt him as her anger burned through their lips.

His hand knotted into her hair, pulling roughly as her nails dug into his skin through his shirt. She pushed up against him, craving the contact and heat of his body as she pulled his bottom lip between her teeth and bit at him once more. A low angry hiss escaped his mouth and he jammed his knee between her legs, forcing them apart and pressing hard into her center. They both moaned at the contact. He gripped her harshly, pressing into her until there was no space left. A deep carnal heat flooded through her body like wildfire and she kissed him relentlessly, her tongue sliding over his as they nipped at each other and fought for control. He pressed his thigh deeper between her legs and a dark need consumed her. She pressed forward to mirror the movements. She could feel his fingernails bite into the skin just above her hip as his hand tugged her hair once more.

A loud rap sounded on the door next to them and they both froze, their bodies becoming instantly stiff as the world appeared around them one more. Hermione’s hands were tangled in his shirt and laced into the hair at the back of his neck. He was holding her waist firmly to the wall as his other hand was knotted in her hair. Their breath came in pants. She could feel his ghosting across her cheek as she stared into his bright grey-blue eyes – both of them wide in confusion and shock.

A long second passed between them as they gasped for air, unsure of what the hell had just happened. Then she felt his finger on her hip twitch and her brain came tumbling back into her empty skull with more force than a bludger.

She shoved him away from her, watching as his hands fell to his sides and his expression began to morph from disbelief to a familiar angry rage – but this time it was darker. She knew that a similar expression was creeping over her own face as she quickly straightened her shirt and tucked her hair behind her ears. There was a bruise forming near Malfoy’s lip that made it look like he’d been punched in the jaw but she didn’t spare it a second thought and instead turned and wrenched open the office door – blowing past Daphne who was standing there with a very concerned expression.

Hermione continued down the hallway toward the elevator, her movements were robotic while her mind was elsewhere. She didn’t properly register the words that Daphne had spoken until she’d shut the brass doors and pressed the button for her floor.

_‘I’m sorry sir – I don’t mean to interrupt but we were just worried that one of you might be dead in there.’_

_I fucking wish I was_ , Hermione thought viciously as she covered her mouth with her shaking hand and leaned back against the elevator wall.

-x-x-

So while I complete my three full length novels (one apocalyptic fantasy, one murder mystery comedy, and one I’m not sure how to classify) I decided to take on another side project in addition to working this fic and my main Harmony fic _In the Forest of Dean_.

I have added a link to my profile (www.darklotuscollective.com) to the associated endeavor, if you are interested, please feel free to check it out :)

I hope you have a great week <3

TT


	4. The Blast-Ended Skrewts Blast Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – What happens after you angrily snog Draco Malfoy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.
> 
> [AN – sorry this is late, I meant to post it this past Sunday but I ran out of time.  
> But I tumbled down my stairs today and decided fuck it – I don’t want to work on anything else today *laughs awkwardly* so I instead just finished this because it seemed like an enjoyable thing to do]

After viciously making out with Malfoy – Hermione cringed at the thought and her stomach rolled – she found herself unable to wrap her head around what the _fuck_ had happened. She’d retreated to her office for the remainder of the afternoon, door shut, locked and warded – tracing her finger over her lips and trying to process what they’d done.

One second she had been screaming at him an inch away from his face, calling him a ‘ _fucking shit eating bastard_ ’ if she remembered correctly; and then the next second she was moaning into his mouth and breathing him in. She didn’t know who moved first. Was it her that crashed their lips together or him? Had she even closed her eyes while it happened? She honestly couldn’t remember, the whole thing was a blur and the only remaining evidence that proved it had even happened – and that she hadn’t had a stroke – was her racing pulse, her bruised and nicked lip and the multiple fingernail imprints above her hip.

The second she had closed her office door she’d actually lifted her shirt to check that the marks were there to confirm that she hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing – they were, and she’d groaned in despair. Five Malfoy sized bruises littered her skin from where his fingers had dug into her hip. She was sure if she had a mirror, she would see the start of a bruise on her back as well from being shoved roughly against the wall. She imagined that Malfoy probably had a similar bruise on his chest from where her fist had struck him and that he had a set of matching nail marks on his shoulder. Though thinking of Malfoy and his body only made her own tremble. It didn’t make any sense – how had it happened? _Why_ had it happened? Why had he kissed her?

Even if she was the one who initiated it, which she couldn’t confirm, he had _certainly_ participated in it. Eagerly. Her mind wandered back to the feel of his thigh between her legs, his hips pressed tightly against hers, his lips sliding across hers as she panted for air – she blushed furiously with anger and embarrassment as her heart thudded louder and the coil at her center wound tighter.

“FUU-UCCKK,” she practically wailed as she dropped her head into her hands, leaned against the wall of her office and slid to the ground. This was a problem. A major – _major_ – problem. “Why am I reacting like this?”

She felt a twisted combination of urgency, sickness, lust and repulsion. She’d slammed her door shut and warded it knowing that she would explode and break down and she’d wanted the privacy to do so.

Now her hands hurt but she still felt confused – she’d screamed and punched the wall only a moment ago, trying to force the unfamiliar feelings from her body. Bizarre waves of heat, want and revulsion coursed through her and she couldn’t handle them. But now that she sat crumpled on the floor tracing her fingers over her swollen lips once more she didn’t know what to do with herself. Where did one go from here? What do you do after you snogged your worst enemy?

 _How far would we have gone if we hadn’t been interrupted?_ the words haunted her brain as she groaned outwardly again. _How the hell am I supposed to keep working with him? How the fuck am I supposed to finish that proposal?!_

The signed Blast-Ended Skrewt proposal was due on Friday and they still needed to closeout his comments so she could turn it over for final sign-off – then there would be the next proposal, and the next, and so on again and again until the end of time.

She got up from her scrunched position on the floor and began pacing around, running her bitten lip between her teeth and twinging at the sting. Could she see him again and work with him? Should she quit her job? Would he quit his job?

She froze and anger settled over her once again.

“Of course he won’t quit his fucking job,” she whispered darkly as her eyes narrowed. She turned and glared viciously at the closed office door as if it was a portrait of Malfoy, the man she hated, the man she’d been pressed up against only minutes before.

Malfoy would _not_ quit. He would _never_ quit because that would mean losing. In fact – she doubted that Malfoy would do anything at all. He wouldn’t react, he wouldn’t mention it, he would pretend like the entire fucking thing didn’t happen just to drive her even more crazy and he would wait for her to crack. He would never admit to kissing a muggleborn – he was probably ashamed, embarrassed and sick to his stomach over it. He would _never_ tell anyone, and he would expect _her_ to quit her job – and then the bastard would win.

A low devilish grin crept across her face.

“Oh but I’m not going to quit,” she muttered to herself, standing stock still as her eyes widened. She had a feeling she looked a bit crazy – she felt a bit crazy. The emotions swirling through her body were unmanageable and ranged from disgust to desire. “ _Fuck_ that asshole – I’m not going fucking _anywhere_.”

-x-x-

The next morning Hermione arrived on time, dressed in one of her better work outfits and prepared for action. She’d had a full breakfast and two cups of coffee before she’d even set foot in the Ministry. She took war very seriously – she was ready.

She sat through her morning meeting, writing down notes on the upcoming projects and asking Tracey to start making some floo calls on her behalf before she walked to the elevator with her head held high, prepared to go tackle the demon upstairs – and finish the Blast-Ended Skrewt proposal. She knew to expect even more looks than usual the second she got off the elevator on the third floor. Ginny had flooed her last night asking why there was gossip floating around the office that she and Malfoy had gotten into a fist fight – her knowledge of Ministry politics and gossip was astounding considering that she did not work there. Hermione had lied and replied simply: ‘ _because we did.’_

It was shocking to her how easy it had been to lie to one of her best friends, and it was even more shocking how quickly Ginny believed it. The redhead hadn’t even asked for details, she’d just rolled her eyes and went on a rant about how she wished she could punch her Quidditch teammates and get away with it – she’d done it once in the past and had been written up and given a warning. Hermione was informed that it was ‘ _completely unfair’_ that she could beat Malfoy and not even hear from her boss about it. In a way, Hermione was a little disappointed that Ginny would so readily believe she would resort to petty fist fights with Malfoy – but it was better than the alternative of telling her friend that she’d snogged him.

So, unsurprisingly, when she stepped off the elevator and walked toward Malfoy’s office heads turned and a few employees actually stood up from their desks to get a better look at her, hoping to see if the rumors were true and if she’d also taken a blow. Malfoy, who had been completely exposed when she’d wrenched the office door open, hadn’t been able to do anything about the mark on his face before Daphne saw it and spread the rumor. Hermione doubted that he even knew the bruise was there until after he’d angrily slammed the door on Daphne and looked in a mirror. The idea made her snort with laughter – she’d told Artemis all about it the night before. She on the other hand, had managed to get to her office undetected and had cast a glamour on her face to hide the bruise and swollen lips before she’d left for the day. So as far as the office was concerned – she’d decked Malfoy in the jaw and burst out triumphant. She was pleased with this rumor – very pleased.

“Malfoy,” she kept her voice level as she opened his door and stepped into his office. Though this time she kept the door open and only walked in a little more than two feet.

His eyes flicked up from the paper he was reading on his desk, she saw them narrow quickly in an attempt to hide his visible disappointment.

 _You thought I would quit – HAH! Proved you wrong – prat_ , she struggled to keep a smug smile off her face as she watched his frustrated, angry and slightly ashamed expression. He wouldn’t say anything, even _if_ the door was shut, he wouldn’t. He was too proud.

“Granger,” his tone was even, holding only the normal amount of disdain that they used when speaking to each other. He eyed the papers she was holding in her arms before his gaze travelled lazily to her face. “Are you bringing more garbage for me to review – because perhaps you should try to _finish_ a project before you start another one.”

“No,” she said in a clipped tone, her own eyes narrowing in anger.

It was incredible how easy it was to allow her hatred of him to swim back in and replace any insecurity or awkwardness she felt about what had happened. Any lingering traces of her nervousness faded away and was quickly replaced by bitter animosity. Someone should conduct a study on the phenomenon – it was quite fascinating. She could honestly say that right now she wasn’t embarrassed at all, she didn’t give a fuck. She was just right back to hating his stupid prat guts.

“These are my notes on the modifications required for the ward alert – as _requested_ – I brought them for you to review so I can incorporate them into the proposal. I read through your comments Sunday night and your main concern was on the wards being sufficient around the gas pocket. I believe that all the remaining comments can be incorporated as is – with the exception of the fencing materials. Luna’s latest paper suggests that the best material would in fact be chicken wire that has been charmed to be fire retardant so I will be proceeding on that basis unless you have documentation that supports an alternative.”

She took a confident step forward and dropped the papers on his desk, being careful not to stand too closely but also being careful not to take a step back or show any weakness. She eyed him with a single arched brow, taking in his stiff posture and narrowed gaze.

“I have time this morning to review the charms work – if we agree on the approach, then I can finalize the proposal, including the missing details that you’ve requested, and have the final copy to you Thursday for review before sign-off on Friday,” she paused. It was powerful to stand before him while he looked up from his seated position.

She felt a certain level of smug pleasure flood her body at her ability to keep her voice level yet stern and to the point. Nothing she had said was unprofessional, yet it wasn’t spoken kindly either, she still spoke with her normal distaste. She couldn’t help but feel like she truly had punched him in the face and won an argument the day before – just like the rumors.

“Does that sound agreeable?” she asked after a moment of silence. She knew that Daphne was listening outside the door, she might have even left her chair to creep closer to hear better and she knew that Malfoy knew that too. He had no doubt heard the rumors, though the bruise on his face was missing – it was likely carefully hidden with his own glamour.

“Well given that this proposal is due by the end of the week and you’ve fucked it up so badly that you already had to get an extension which Mr. Todgekins has informed me he will _not_ do again – it seems like it has to be,” Malfoy jerked his quill toward the chair before his desk. “ _Sit_.”

Hermione scowled; he’d commanded her like a dog. Malfoy was going to try and take his power back in any way that he could, but she needed the proposal done so she bit back a groan and dragged the chair out from his desk noisily and then took a seat.

They worked on the proposal for the better part of 4 hours, providing ample content for Daphne and the other amused employees listening outside the office door. They screamed at each other several times, like usual, and cursed bloody murder at one another. Hermione ripped papers from his hands when he mocked her minor arithmancy error and told him this was exactly why she had excluded it in the first place. He berated her skill and insulted her ability to do her job and then looked disappointed when he realized that her concept was _technically_ still correct despite the small error and it was in fact the best approach for creating the alarm on the wards.

At one point, when Hermione refused to back down on a minor change he’d requested on the tagging procedure, Malfoy had groaned loudly in frustration, pushed his chair back roughly and left the office. He left her sitting there for over ten minutes until he came back with a pitcher of water, sat down professionally in his seat and then poured it on the pages that she’d been showing him all while never breaking eye contact with her. She’d screeched at him and nearly crawled her way over the desk to strangle him, but instead she’d grabbed the pitcher and tried to tug it from his hands so that she could throw it at him. He’d refused to let go, yelling at her and telling her she was being immature – she was almost dragged across his desk when he gave a final tug. So, she gave up and resorted to throwing her ink well at him and hurling her quill at his face.

That was how she learned that Malfoy charmed his suits to be waterproof and ink proof. When she’d let go of the pitcher it had collided with his chest, but the liquid and the ink had just rolled off his perfectly pressed grey suit and dripped onto the floor. It made her wonder if he’d had things thrown at him before – it seemed like an odd charm to have on one’s clothes otherwise. Perhaps she was not the first person to douse him in ink. Despite all this though, they finally agreed on the wards and the tagging procedure and they finished the proposal. Hermione left his office just after lunch to go update the document.

The remainder of the week progressed rather normally despite the rumor that continued to circle that they’d been in a fight. She never heard from management about it – apparently, they were content to pretend nothing had happened so long as she and Malfoy still had all their limbs. Though, she’d noticed several employees giving her looks of wonderment and awe – at first she hadn’t understood why, but on Thursday morning the realization hit her.

People were _impressed_ that she’d attacked Malfoy and walked away unscathed. They were looking at her with a bizarre sort of admiration and it made her smirk. Malfoy had really come out with the short end of the stick – not only had she not quit her job like he had obviously been hoping, but she’d gained a small amount of notoriety.

She finished the updated proposal on schedule, Malfoy reviewed it a final time Thursday morning and despite all odds – he signed it. Neither one of them had mentioned the _incident_ as she decided to call it and she’d managed to push down the single thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind since that Monday to a dull whisper: _how far would things have gone if Daphne didn’t knock on the door?_

She wasn’t sure she ever wanted to know the answer to that question.

However, as she stood before Malfoy Friday morning watching the extraordinary event take place – his large expensive quill skating elegantly across the top of the updated proposal – an odd and unsettling feeling came over her. She felt uneasy and doubt started to creep into the corners of her mind as she took the signed proposal from his outstretched hand.

It was too easy.

 _Everything_ this week had been too easy. Sure they had fought as they finalized the proposal, sure she had thrown ink at him and he had poured water over her papers and tugged her roughly into the desk as they bickered over the pitcher – and okay yes, _maybe_ she had even tried to kick him under the desk after he’d broken her favourite quill in half… but that was all normal behaviour for them. At the end of the day Malfoy _had_ sat with her and _finished_ the proposal and they had _agreed_ on something. And that was _after_ she had _allegedly_ punched him and the whole office knew it. He _knew_ the rumor and yet he had still finished the proposal anyway.

An anxious ball started to form in the pit of her stomach as she looked at his name on the proposal she now clutched in her hands. Even though she had _won_ she felt like she had somehow still lost. The feeling was eating away at her – he’d let her win this one. Almost as if… she raised her eyes to look at his face and her small smile fell.

He looked like a dragon who had just found its next meal, like he had lured her into his den – and she suddenly realized that maybe he had.

“I look forward to working with you on the Dugbog proposal,” his words were low, yet held a note of menace that made her shoulders stiffen. “That one is due in two weeks correct? First pass next Friday?”

Her eye twitched and she saw a low dark smirk curl across his lips.

_He’s going to eat me alive on the Dugbog proposal._

He was going to massacre anything and everything that she gave him. A feeling of dread started to build in her chest as she nodded slowly and clutched the signed proposal more tightly to her chest. She hoped she was wrong – she hoped he was more professional than to be petty and sabotage her work just because of what had happened. But it wasn’t about _just_ that now. It was because she’d bruised his ego – she’d allowed the rumors to continue and hadn’t denied them. Not only had she refused to quit or give up she’d not bothered to downplay the rumors one bit. If anything, and she hated admitting to it, she’d sort of reveled in them. Not outwardly, but inwardly – and she knew he’d seen it. She’d been gloating her triumph and as a result she’d poked the dragon. He’d let her have this round because there was nothing he could do – but he would not let her take the next one.

“That’s correct,” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing at him in warning. She couldn’t back down now, the damage was already done. “Have a good weekend Malfoy.”

She turned on her heel to leave when his voice stalled her.

“I hope that you put more _effort_ into this next proposal – Potter has me booked on some of his projects for the next two weeks so I won’t have time to sift through your usual garbage or re-review unnecessary drafts. I’d _hate_ for you to have to ask for _second_ extension in only two short weeks – I can’t imagine that would go over well, especially now that your budget has room to hire someone _new_.”

She turned to glare at him, he was sitting with a smug smirk and a glint in his eyes, confirming exactly what she had been worried about. She felt her anger begin to bubble, but she bit back the rage and stormed from his office. There was nothing she could do or say to fix this with Malfoy directly – her only hope was to make sure that her Dugbog proposal was flawless, she couldn’t give him any chance to criticize or shutdown the proposal – and she had less than a week to do it.

After exiting the elevator on her department’s floor she rushed down the hall, nearly colliding with Anton as she made her way to Mr. Todgekins. She apologized quickly and told him to be in early Monday morning and come prepared for a field trip – enough was enough – it was time that Anton started to pull his weight and earn his salary.

She skidded into Mr. Todgekins office and left him the proposal to sign, his praise for getting it done on time was barely heard as she darted back out of his office and ran back to her own. She spent fifteen minutes packing up her supplies and several textbooks from her office – she grabbed three more rolls off her bookshelf and then hurried over to Tracey to get the transcripts from the floo calls she’d made on Hermione’s behalf.

She was going home to work – properly, uninterrupted by her coworkers and away from prying eyes. This weekend was going to be a nightmare and the week that followed would be hell. There would be no rest, no coffee date and no sleep. She had less than seven days to create perfect proposal that outlined the redistribution of land between Dugbog species in Southern England, and no one even knew how many there were or where they all lived.

-x-x-

Hermione nearly whimpered as she limped down the hallway from her office toward the elevators. It was late – well past midnight, sometime around 2am. She and Anton had spent the last 48 hours canvasing the marshlands in South England to tag, document and map the habitats of the Dugbogs. The proposal, somehow, was possibly even more stupid than the Blast-Ended Skrewt proposal.

The creatures were small marsh dwelling beasts, classification XXX, and really required no interference or assistance from Wizards in any shape or form. Except that recent expansions in the Herbology industry to support apothecary growth had resulted in the creature’s homelands being encroached upon. It was a bad combination of circumstances and frankly was the fault of the Herbologists for not thinking things through.

A Dugbog’s favourite food was Mandrake, and Mandrakes were often grown in large crops near the edges of fertile marshland soil – which, unfortunately, meant that many of the new crops established by greenhouses were recently destroyed by swarms of Dugbogs. The proposal was being pushed and funded by the Herbology Association as they desperately wanted the Dugbogs relocated. They’d made it abundantly clear that they could not afford another crop loss and thus the proposal was being fast tracked to completion prior to their upcoming planting season.

While Hermione understood their frustrations with the Dugbogs, the realty was that you couldn’t just round up the creatures and move them to a different marsh. Well – you could – but they would just move back and eat your crops with a new vengeance. Calling the proposal a ‘ _redistribution of land’_ was a complete misnomer. The Herbology Association didn’t give a shit about finding the Dugbogs a new home even though they had impinged on their habitat and constructed massive greenhouse operations on the edge of protected marshlands.

What the greenhouse owners and the Herbology Association really wanted was permission to poison the creatures and get rid of the problem – but that was illegal, the poison would bleed into the protected marshland and the Dugbog’s were important to the ecosystem. It was also nearly impossibly to do it without killing their own Mandrake crops, which defeated the purpose of the poisoning in the first place. Hermione had no doubt that this was the only reason they had funded the proposal in the first place – if they could have killed the creatures successfully on their own they would have.

What the greenhouse owners _needed_ to do was either move the Mandrakes inside a protected greenhouse and grow them in pots – which the owners were vehemently against as the costs were too high and the Mandrakes always turned out better when grown _naturally_ in outdoor crop format; or they needed to construct wards or find a predator to guard their crops. There was no way to _redistribute_ land or _relocate_ the creatures successfully.

However, since the Herbology Association specialized strictly in herbology, not charms, and Dugbogs were a classified creature that fell under her department, _and_ the recent legislation ‘ _Creature Preservation And Natural Habitat_ _Protection’_ restricted the Herbology Association’s actions – the task fell to her to resolve it. And since the proposal was funded by the Herbology Association, which she had tried to argue was a conflict of interest but Mr. Todgekins had dismissed her, she needed to come up with something that _worked_ or her ass would be on the line.

She’d spent her entire weekend researching the creatures, reading through Tracey’s floo transcripts from her conversations with the greenhouse owners (which were surprisingly helpful and well detailed), identifying the key marsh areas of concern, researching the crops that had been planted and drafting up the base template for the proposal. She’d lived off caffeine, she’d barely eaten and hardly slept. Pouring over document after document until Ginny finally popped by later Sunday morning and forced her to eat the food she’d brought.

Even Artemis hadn’t been able to handle her work ethic, he’d flown out the window when she’d refused to turn of the lights for him to nap and had apparently gone to visit Luna. The only reason she knew where he went was because Luna had sent him back with some cookies and a note. All of the cookies were gone – Artemis had stopped midflight and devoured them from his leg pouch, leaving only two small crumbs and the crumpled paper. Hermione was surprised he hadn’t eaten the paper and the leg pouch too.

Monday morning, to her surprise, Anton had actually showed up early and was wearing proper dragonhide boots. Either Mr. Todgekins had told him that the department funding had improved and he was looking for a raise, or her reputation for punching prats in the face had become more effective than she ever could have imagined. She hadn’t allowed herself to think on it much, she’d just dumped a backpack of equipment in his arms and told him to follow her to the apparition point. At the very least he would be helpful carrying stuff.

They’d spent the entire day out in the bogs and marshlands. Apparating to each greenhouse location and observing the crops. They’d documented as many Dugbog subspecies as they could, taken photographs, completed a full geocheck – which Hermione showed Anton how to do – mapped out the marshlands and surrounding areas and then trudged through the disgusting water and tagged as many Dugbogs as they could get their hands on.

To Anton’s credit, he only complained mildly, and it really had only begun after the rain had started to come down. She could hardly blame the guy, especially since he wasn’t used to doing _work_ or being out in the cold dark. Wading through a stinky bog wasn’t exactly a dream job. It hadn’t phased Hermione – she’d done hundreds of worse tasks. Though even she had to admit that she was getting sick of having her ankles mauled. Her reclaimed dragon hide boots, made from the skin of a dragon that died naturally, had helped ward off most of the Dugbogs – but eventually they had gotten wise and attacked their calves and climbed inside their boots.

At 4am on Monday she’d finally called it quits and let Anton return home to rest, asking him to meet her at the final greenhouse Tuesday morning at 9am. Shockingly – he’d actually shown up. He’d looked like hell, deep dark circles lingered around his eyes and he was muttering under his breath but he’d followed her back out into the bog and continued tagging Dugbogs and noting their den locations. The rain on the second day had been worse and it’d seeped through their charms and left them ragged. She’d decided to call it at 1am and sent Anton home, telling him to sleep in and be back at the office for 10am to go through their notes. He’d looked relieved and she had barely caught the gear backpack he tossed to her before he apparated away.

She’d intended to go home and crash – but she needed to return the gear so that the Creature Recovery Unit could pick it up first thing Wednesday morning and she wanted to drop off her notes and leave instructions for Tracey. Hermione knew she needed to sleep tonight, at least for a few hours. So she wasn’t planning on coming in until 9am and this way Tracey could get a head start on the follow-up floo calls so she and Anton would have something to work with when she came in.

She pulled open the brass doors and sighed heavily as she leaned against the wall of the elevator. She smelled awful. She was drenched, her pants were covered in mud, she’d left her reclaimed dragon hide boots in her office in favour of comfortable shoes and now the dried blood patches from the Dugbog bites were visible on her pants. She looked down at herself and frowned. She should have healed the wounds, but she needed to clean them first otherwise they would get infected from the saliva and she was fresh out of wound cleaner. She’d given it and her dittany to Anton because he didn’t have any. She would have to wait until she got home to properly patch herself up, she always had a bunch of medical supplies at home. Though right now she could hardly care about the Dugbog bites – she wanted a damn shower.

As the elevator chimed and the doors opened, she hauled herself from the wall and forced her stiff legs to move. She could not wait to get home. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been more excited for a shower in her life – and she’d lived in a tent with two boys for almost a year. She’d only taken two steps when she heard the elevator next to the one she’d just left chime before the gates slid open.

 _What the – who the fuck is here in the middle of the night?_ her brow scrunched in confusion and she turned to look behind her. Then her face fell, and a low hiss escaped between her teeth.

“Fucking Merlin – is _this_ what you look like when you think no one is around? I can _smell_ you from here – were you climbing through sewage? Is that how you manage to keep yourself afloat – by tending to the Ministry plumbing in the middle of the night for extra money?”

“Fuck off Malfoy,” she spat angrily as her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

He was wearing one of his three-piece suits but the top two buttons of his collared shirt were undone and his tie had been loosened – he, like her, was clearly not expecting to run into anyone. He looked more tired than usual, but he still appeared almost perfect despite the late hour.

She glared at him as he strolled forward and she forced herself to turn away, limping toward the exit. She’d somehow managed to get three Dugbog bites on the bottom of her feet and walking was pure agony. She did not want to engage in an argument with Malfoy right now or give him any more ammunition or drive to ruin her life. There was no one here to prevent hem from legitimately geting into a fight – or anything else for that matter. The idea of being alone in the empty hallways with Malfoy made her stomach flip nervously. She needed to get home and shower.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Ever the _keen_ observer Malfoy – thank you – I _hadn’t_ noticed, how lucky for me you were here to point it out,” she sneered. She couldn’t help but respond, the words just flowed from her without prompt. She could hear him gaining on her. Her limp was slowing her down and he was clearly headed toward the same exit that she was.

“Have you forgotten that you’re a witch – or do I need to point that out as well? Heal yourself – or are your healing skills as abominable as your proposal writing prowess?”

“Ugh for fuck’s sake I just _can’t_ with you,” she groaned as he came to walk in sync with her a few feet to her left. She turned and shot him a death glare. “I _can’t_ heal them until I _clean_ them because the Dugbog saliva will leave an infection! If you knew _anything_ about basic first aid – you would _know_ that.”

“And if _you_ knew anything about field check procedures you would have packed some wound cleaner and dittany in that ridiculous backpack of yours. You’re telling me you hauled that thing around through bogs all fucking night and you didn’t even bring a proper first aid kit?”

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and clenched her jaw. To her dismay Malfoy stopped too and stood before her smirking. She could not handle him right now. She fucking hated him, his face, his hair, the delicious smell that always seemed to linger around his body – his arrogant demeanor and rude comments. She could feel her pulse quicken as the rage built within her.

“I _did_ pack first aid supplies,” her voice was low, and it trembled with anger.

“Then _use_ them and stop bleeding all over the halls,” he replied just as darkly, his eyes narrowing at her.

She snorted, her face twisting into a sneer. “Worried you might get some _mud-‘blood’_ on your shoes Malfoy?”

She saw his eye twitch, his whole frame went rigid and his hands curled at his sides.

“I _gave_ my supplies to Anton because he didn’t bring any,” she continued, ignoring his odd reaction to her word. Her eyes never left his as she spoke in a dark whisper – her voice threatening to crack with rage as each word fell heavy between them. “And since he’d _finally,_ for the first fucking time in his career, _done_ his fucking _job_ and came with me – I thought it was the appropriate thing to do. Maybe I’m just a hopeless optimistic – but I thought that maybe if I healed his wounds for him he might _do_ his _job_ again! So, I’m _sorry_ that I smell like sewage and I’m _sorry_ that I’m leaking my dirty blood all over the floor – but I _can’t_ heal them until I get home. But don’t worry – I’ll clean up my mess.”

She pulled her wand from her jacket and quickly vanished the trail of mud and few blood droplets she’d left on the floor behind her.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me – I’d like to go take a shower.”

She turned on her heel and continued to limp her way to the exit as fast as she could. She didn’t look back over her shoulder at him, but she could feel him glaring daggers into the back of her head.


	5. Dugbogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – Things escalate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

The meeting with Anton and Tracey on Wednesday morning had been more productive than Hermione had thought it would be. Tracey had not only completed the floo calls that Hermione had left for her – she had also organized several of the attachments for the proposal and completed a first round of edits. Hermione was at a loss for words and had thanked the woman quietly before getting down to business. She only had two days left to complete the proposal and she already felt like she was running on fumes. She’d cleaned and healed her wounds when she’d gotten home from the Ministry, audibly cursing Malfoy for seeing her after her bog galivanting. She did her best to stuff down any lingering weird feelings that had swept over her after seeing him in the hall with his shirt partially unbuttoned. She didn’t have time for such thoughts and frankly she found them unsettling.

By the end of the day Wednesday she had completed a rough draft of the entire proposal and had drafted out the beginnings of the charm work necessary to keep the Dugbogs away from the Mandrakes while still allowing weather, nutrients, and other creatures to pass through. The problem was the make-up of the Dugbogs – you couldn’t just create a charm to keep them out based solely on generics, you needed to address the dozens of different variant subspecies.

She had a feeling, based on her and Anton’s thorough marsh hike, that the subspecies popped up every few years as a means of adaptation. Which meant that the wards would need to be monitored and maintained to add on any new subspecies that they were yet to know about. She doubted that the Herbology Association would be pleased with the findings or their recommendations (since it wasn’t a one size fits all permanent solution) but there was nothing she could do about that.

Facts were facts.

Thursday morning she handed the draft proposal over to Tracey for formatting and editing, something she rarely seemed able to squeeze in but forced herself to do this time – she could not afford to hand over a document with spelling errors to Malfoy. Not this time. So she’d instead forgone sleep Wednesday night in favour of completing the draft so that it would be ready for Tracey to review and compile. She spent the remainder of the morning finalizing the charms work and she even allowed Ginny to stop by for lunch and review the work while she scarfed down the curry Ginny had brought with her.

“So these here – they’re to monitor for any genetic changes in the Dugbogs?” Ginny asked, leaning over Hermione’s desk and pointing to the bottom half of the page. “It’s genius – but holy shit is it complicated – why not just leave the wards as you have them and when the Dugbogs shift again update them?”

“Because we will only know when they’ve changed genetically again when the Mandrake crops are destroyed – I highly doubt that the Herbology Association would be pleased with that solution. We need some sort of preemptive approach.”

“True,” Ginny’s eyes scanned over the document once more. “Why not just use a health monitoring charm on the Mandrakes themselves – that way you know if they are being attacked?”

“Back of the page,” Hermione said quickly as she shoveled more curry in her mouth. Her motions were rapid, and her hand was twitching slightly. “I’m going to leave the charm with them – but I doubt that they will cast it since it needs to be reapplied each crop. Herbologists _hate_ charm work. I’ll give them the instructions regardless though, it’s on them to use it.”

“This is incredibly thorough Hermione,” Ginny said after she’d flipped over the page. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion and she looked up at her friend. “How much coffee have you had today?”

“Two cups.”

Ginny raised her brow and folded her arms across her chest.

“Okay six – but it _has_ to be perfect, Malfoy is on a war path and I can’t afford to have any holes in this proposal or I might seriously lose my job.”

“Fucking hell – no wonder, you’re practically vibrating in your seat. You _need_ to sleep Hermione, you can’t keep doing this to yourself – they’re never going to _fire_ you.”

“They might this time,” Hermione grimaced as her mind went back to her conversation with Malfoy. “I had to ask for an extension on the Blast-Ended Skrewt proposal and that went horribly – because of the mooncalf ball my department actually has some funding so they could replace me.”

“You think Mr. Todgekins is going to use the money the department got because of _your_ hard work to fire and replace you? Have you slept at all – do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“No – and no – look it’s hard to explain but I really think that Malfoy is trying to fuck me on this one – he’s out for my head,” Hermione had stood from her chair beside Ginny and taken the papers back from her friend. Returning to the proper side of her desk she sat down and pulled out a pen to continue working.

“You’re paranoid because you’re fucking sleep deprived is what the problem is – do you think it’s possible that Malfoy’s behaviour might be related to you punching him in the face?” Ginny said sarcastically then she let out a sigh. “Just buy him a coffee and say that you’re sorry, I’m sure he isn’t going to fuck you over one small punch.”

Hermione’s eye twitched and she kept her head down, unwilling to look Ginny in the eyes. Had her redheaded friend known the truth of what happened she would understand how serious the situation was – she would know that Hermione was not just blowing this out of proportion. Not this time. She’d snogged Malfoy and everyone in the office thought that she’d punched him.

She was fucked, royally fucked.

“Yeaahh,” she said as she made a small note with her pen on the corner of the page. “I don’t think coffee is going to cut it this time.”

“Was it more than a punch? Oh fuck – Hermione, you didn’t kick him in the bollocks, did you?!”

“ _What_?!” Hermione’s head shot up this time and she stared at her friend in surprise. “No! No why the fuck would I do that?”

“I don’t know! Why would you punch him when you know you have to work with him?!”

“Ugh – look – what’s done is done Ginny. I can’t do anything about it now, I just have to ensure this proposal is perfect so that he _has_ to sign it.”

“At the cost of your sanity?”

Hermione shrugged and simply continued writing her note. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

She doubted the words as she said them. How could she be fine? Between working the hours that she did? The ridiculous proposals? Dealing with Malfoy and knowing that she’d kissed him? Knowing that she’d ground up against him and could still taste him on her lips? No. With all of that _and_ knowing that she could not stop thinking about him, she was going slowly insane.

 _Fuck no – I’m doomed,_ she thought _. I’ll be crazy in a week_.

“Ughh fine – clearly you aren’t ready to talk about this like a reasonable person. Once this proposal is done though you’re coming over and we are going to discuss your career options, health and general poor life choices. It _will_ happen – I’ll have Harry come and get you if I have too.”

“Yes mum,” Hermione replied as she rolled her eyes at her friend. Ginny ignored her remark and got up to head to the door but stopped before she opened it.

“This Saturday is Angelina’s birthday party – you _are_ coming,” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“Ginny,” Hermione said slowly, her pen coming to a stall. She looked up to see her friend’s stern expression and she grimaced. “I’m not lying about the seriousness of this proposal – depending on the comments that Malfoy gives on Friday I may need the whole weekend to finish it.”

“It’s not an option Hermione – the party has been planned for weeks and she’s ridiculously pregnant and emotional – you’re coming. If you’re worried about him making a shit ton of comments on Friday, then take the proposal to him this afternoon and give it to him for review so that you know what you’re dealing with.”

“How will that help? If he’s going to massacre it, it doesn’t matter when I show it to him.”

“It helps because then you have tomorrow to go through it _with_ him and hash everything out instead of having to wait until Monday while you freak out over it for the entire weekend! Work smarter not harder Hermione, there is no sense in you spinning your wheels over his comments on the weekend. Lock him in a boardroom if you have to on Friday and just get through it.”

Hermione hesitated. It was actually a good idea. “Alright – I’ll come, and I’ll go see Malfoy this afternoon.”

“Good,” Ginny gave her a small smile. “I love you even though you’re insane you know? I’m not trying to be a bitch – I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Yeah I know – thanks Ginny, I love you too.”

With that Ginny left the office and Hermione quickly went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Her parents had ingrained the habit into her as a child and she rarely failed to brush three times a day. After running some water through her hair and casting another static charm to keep the loose tendrils in place she made her way to Tracey to see where the proposal was at.

“Tracey – have you finished editing the proposal?” Hermione called out as she approached.

“Just did! Here – it should be good to go,” Tracey handed her the thick document back with a smile.

“Thank you – I really appreciate it,” Hermione took the folder and darted into her office to get a pen and her drafted charms.

“It is my _job_ you know,” Tracey called back to her. “You don’t need to thank me for editing it.”

“Yes I do,” Hermione grinned at the girl as she exited her office and turned toward the elevators.

She was starting to feel a weird sort of optimism. This proposal was by far the best one she had ever compiled – at least in terms of thoroughness and completeness. Everything was in the proposal except for the charms work which she wanted to review with Malfoy first before formalizing it. It was, after all, what he had said he would prefer. She intended to see how well it went over – the last time she brought him 90% complete work he’d tried to discredit it and make her look like an idiot. Regardless though, Ginny was right. The earlier she could get the proposal to him the better.

The elevator moved quickly to the third floor and she ignore Daphne as she blew past toward Malfoy’s office. His door was shut – typical – and she pried it open.

“Malfoy – do you have time to review the Dugbog proposal this afternoon? I know you said you were busy this week, so I have the proposal ready a bit early. It’s only at 95% but I would like to get your comments today so that tomorrow we can have a full meeting to discuss your comments and work through them as a team. That way I can get a better understanding of what you want.”

Malfoy glared at her as he looked up from his desk, his top button was undone and he looked frustrated and annoyed. More so than usual.

“I thought that I _specifically_ told you not to waste my time with _incomplete_ crap,” he sneered.

Hermione took and deep breath and closed her eyes for a second before forcing herself to remain calm. “It’s not _incomplete_ , it’s finished except for the charms work which – as I already stated – I wanted your _opinion_ on before I finalized them. I thought you would have relished the idea of me _wanting_ your input. I’m _trying_ to work more efficiently to save us both time – there is no point in me pouring hours into finalizing something that you would never agree to, and if I did, it would only mean more work for you later because you’d have to review it twice. I’m getting your input _early_ so that this is more of a collective effort.”

She could see his jaw tighten as his hand flexed on the pen he was holding. He looked like he was going to explode and she was amazed when he simply pointed to the corner of his desk and then dropped his eyes back to the paper before him.

“Thank you,” she said almost hesitantly as she stepped fully into his office and dropped the large folder on the corner he had pointed to. “I can come get the comments when you’re done or have Daphne bring them to Tracey.”

He continued to ignore her and Hermione frowned. Was it possible that he was actually more angry at something other than her? Or was he simply planning to hold on to her work and not return the comments until tomorrow anyways? Her frown deepened but she turned and left his office, closing the door behind her. There was nothing that she could do about that now – she had a copy of her charms work that she could continue to work on while she waited for his comments.

His comments came alright.

They showed up just after 3pm, only two hours after she’d dropped off the document, and they were delivered by Tracey who knocked softly on her door. Hermione could tell from the grim expression on the woman’s face that it wasn’t good. She rose from her desk without a word, took the folder and then closed and warded her door. Ten minutes later Tracey jumped in her seat as Hermione’s door whipped open and vulgar poured from her mouth.

“THAT WRETCHED PIECE OF SHIT!”

Hermione flew from her office like a hurricane, several papers spattered with red ink clutched tightly to her chest as she stormed down the hall toward the elevator.

_I cannot believe that fucking asshole – Did I consider the lingering effects of Mandrakes being planted next to the marshlands?! Of course I fucking did! Did he even read this thing?! If he wasn’t going to read it why bother taking it. Saying that my charm work was overcomplicated and unnecessary – has this fucker ever met a Herbologist? I’m not asking him to do the fucking work – it doesn’t matter if it will take three charms experts to install it! The Herbology Association is paying for it for fuck’s sake! And to say that the genetic monitoring won’t work! Fucking seriously!?! ASSHOLE!_

It took her only seconds to close the distance from the elevators to his office before she threw open the door.

“What the _fuck_ Malfoy?!” she was seething, her shoulders were shaking and she could feel the vibrations begin to move through her whole body. “Are you trying to get me fired?! Is that what this is about?! Half of your comments aren’t even _valid_!”

“I _told_ you I didn’t have time to review an incomplete proposal,” he said bitterly, throwing his pen down on his desk and glaring at her. “I _only_ had time to skim through it – and my comments _are_ valid! Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean it’s not true!”

“ _Bullshit_! I did consider the long-term effects of Mandrakes being planted next to the marshlands! It’s covered in appendix C!”

“There was no appendix C Granger,” his voice was dangerously even. She watched as he slowly stood from his desk - and then he exploded. “Did you even look through the document before you dropped it on the corner of my desk?! FUCK Granger!! You are un-fucking-believable!!”

“What?!” Hermione snapped, her brow furrowing in confusion. “I gave the appendix to Tracey to edit – it was in the folder I gave you!”

“No,” Malfoy said darkly, his eyes narrowing into hateful slits. “It _wasn’t.”_

“Fuck!” Hermione looked at the few pages she had brought with her. Of course, of course this would happen. The one time she actually engaged her team to help they fucked up and left out key parts of the proposal – this was the reason why she did everything herself. But ultimately, this was _her_ fault. She’d been in such a rush that she hadn’t rechecked the folder that Tracey gave her before she’d dropped it off to Malfoy. And since she didn’t bring the folder up here with her now, she couldn’t even check it. She didn’t know if he was lying. She turned her eyes back to him and glared.

“You didn’t look at it, did you?” he said viciously, she could see the anger coming off of him in waves.

She couldn’t respond, she didn’t know what to say. How could she tell him that he was right – that she had mistakenly trusted her team and they’d let her down. He would never accept that as an excuse. How could she tell him that he was right, that she should have checked the files, _especially_ since he’d said he was busy and did not have time this week.

How could she be so stupid!

This was her fault. Entirely her fault and she’d completely fucked herself. He was going to ruin her. He was going to destroy her. She was going to lose her job, her reputation – everything and it was a result of her own shortcomings. She was so angry she was starting to feel sick. She wanted to punch him and then punch the wall – and then punch herself! If he hadn’t been riding her ass like he had and making her so riddled with anxiety she wouldn’t be making half as many mistakes. It might be her fault – but she fucking hated him. He was unravelling her.

“Did you?” he said again, his voice even lower than before.

She panicked and bolted from the room. She could feel her limbs shaking as she moved, and her mind raced with fear. She knew if she stayed she was going to kill him and then possibly just kill herself – she was dying slowly anyways, this job would be the end of her – so why was she so intent on dragging her sad miserable life out?

She almost made it to the elevator, she was only three offices away when a strong hand grabbed her arm and jerked her sideways into an empty office. She felt wards close around the room as she stumbled and turned to face Malfoy. He looked angrier than she’d ever seen him. He looked like he was about to strangle her.

“I asked you a question, Granger?” he said darkly, stalking towards her. “Did you even _bother_ to look at the document you gave me before you dropped it on my desk? I would have thought that you of all people understood the concept of being tight for time!”

“It was complete Malfoy!” she spat at him, her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt like she was going to explode and then get sick. “I fucking finished it last night! I gave it to Tracey to edit this morning – she must have missed putting it back together!”

“Merlin – _fuck_ you are full of excuses! Stop _blaming_ everyone else for your failures!” he was close to her now and he was visibly restraining himself.

“I’m not _blaming_ her! I’m just explaining what happened you fucking dick!” Hermione screamed at him. “I didn’t check it – _I_ didn’t check it! _There_! Are you fucking happy now Malfoy! Is that what you wanted to hear! That Hermione Granger is _exactly_ the idiot moron that you always thought she was, and she fucked up!”

She had closed the space between them as she screamed. They were only inches apart and she was glaring daggers at him.

“You are – Ughh!” Malfoy grabbed both of her shoulders and pushed her backwards into the wall. “Are you trying to fucking kill me?! Do you enjoy _ruining_ my life and wasting my time?! Did it ever occur to you that not _everything_ is about _you_ and _your_ projects and that I actually have _other_ things that I need to do!? I asked you – I _told_ you not to give me incomplete shit and less than 24 hours later you drop a folder missing half of its appendices on my desk!”

“Wha – If you noticed they were missing why did you bother reviewing it at all Malfoy!? You keep bitching at me that you have no time and yet you seem fucking thrilled to have the opportunity to bleed all over my work whenever you can!” Hermione pushed at him, her hands pressed firmly against his hard chest. He was still gripping her shoulders and his fingers were digging into her skin. They were undoubtably leaving little bruises – but he refused to be pushed away. “Believe it or not I actually have _better_ things to do with my time than plot out how best to piss you off!”

“You could have fooled me! It is the _only _thing you have managed to successfully do in your job!”

“You _asshole_!” she punched him in the chest, she felt the hit vibrate satisfyingly up her arm. He hadn’t been expecting it and she heard a small grunt escape him. “ _You_ have ruined _everything!_ Every mistake I make is because you’re constantly breathing down my fucking neck and I can’t even think straight! I can’t fucking stand you!”

He caught her next jab mid strike and pinned her arm above her head then sneered down at her. “I am so _sick_ of you and your inability to do a decent fucking job!”

“Then stop actively trying to sabotage me!” she pushed against him as hard as she could now that her one shoulder was free only to feel him close the space further.

A tiny voice in the back of her head told her to stop. It told her that she was treading on dangerous territory, it reminded her that they were alone. She could feel him against her, and her body had started to tingle. Something was stirring at her core, something that she recognized. They had been here before. Just like this – screaming in each other’s faces.

Deep down her gut told her that she _knew_ where this was going, and yet she ignored it. She couldn’t stop herself from reacting to him. To his words, his voice, his body – everything. It was like her body was being driven by nothing but animalistic urges and her reasoning skills had disappeared.

“ _I’m_ sabotaging _you_!? Are you fucking kidding me!? Do you have any idea how many problems you’ve caused me! Fuck you are so fucking ignorant!”

“God you are a selfish little prat – _I’m_ ignorant! Seriously?! I’m just trying to do my fucking job and you’re making it impossible!”

“Maybe you should find a different job – since you seem _INCAPABLE_ of doing this one!!!” he bellowed.

“Fuck you!”

She shoved him and he shoved back. She jerked the hand he was holding above her head as she grabbed at his shirt with her free one. She couldn’t tell if she was trying to hit him, shove him, hurt him or pull him closer – but he fought against her jerking motions as she cursed at him until once again, she found herself pinned against the wall, his body flush against hers and his lips sliding over hers.

Her breath caught in her lungs as she gasped for air and she felt his hand tighten around her wrist. She gripped his collared shirt tightly and pulled him down farther, opening her mouth wider and slipping her tongue over his lips. She heard him groan deeply before he pressed into her, his thigh coming to rest between her legs once more. Hermione pressed herself against his leg, the heat of his touch was burning against her skin and a wave of desire rushed through her. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she gripped him tightly, hanging on for dear life as she nipped at his lips and kissed him fiercely.

She fucking hated him. She hated him so badly that it hurt.

Her skirt was bunching up around her waist as he ground into her and slipped his hand down her shoulder over her blouse to her hips. His thumb grazed over her breast as it moved, and she groaned only for Malfoy to take her lip in his mouth and bite her hard. She groaned even louder. She could feel his fingers sliding under the fabric of her blouse, gripping at the skin of her waist as her own hand trailed down his chest to grab at the belt of his pants. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the leather and tugged.

Malfoy growled and ground into her, she shuddered at the feel of his stiff cock against her abdomen. His hand on her hip quivered as his fingers dug into her skin. His lips had left hers and they were trailing down the side of her face towards her neck. He bit her jawline and she groaned. She undid his belt with her single hand and he traced his tongue down her neck. He grabbed at the fabric of her skirt, pulling it up her thighs roughly and gathering it at her waist.

She didn’t stop him, she just pressed her center harder against his thigh and rolled her hips.

His fingers slid down to her thigh as he bit her neck roughly, marking her skin, she could feel each digit tracing up her leg toward her center. She shuddered as he shifted his thigh and she felt his fingers trace over her wet slit before he pushed her panties aside and thrust two into her. She cried out, her head dropping to his shoulder as she took in a shaky breath. He pumped them in and out of her, his thumb grazing roughly over her clit. Pleasure flooded through her body and she moved her hand to his fly and quickly undid the button and zipper. His lips crashed against hers once more as he pulled his fingers away and moved his hand to his own pants. She clawed her hand up his chest under his shirt as their teeth clicked together and she wound the fingers of her opposite hand into his perfect blonde hair.

She pulled and he growled against her lips before he pushed inside her in one quick thrust.

Her head fell back, and an incomprehensive sound left her lips as she felt his hard length fill her. She could hear his sharp intake of breath like a hiss near her ear. He was large, thick and she could feel him stretching her channel.

It was tight – so unbelievably tight.

He raked his teeth down her neck and she gripped his hair tighter still, rolling her hips against him as he thrust into her relentlessly. It was rough, angry – aggressive. He growled and bit her as she raked her nails down his scalp and dug them into his back. She kissed him furiously, he’d wound his arm under her leg, lifting it up behind the knee so he could fuck her deeper and she moaned into his mouth. He swallowed her sounds and stuck his tongue so far down her throat her head swam. She thudded hard against the wall, it was bruising her back, it hurt, but she loved it. She could feel the coil in her center tighten with each motion and she attacked him with her lips, breaking away from his assault to leave her own marks down his porcelain neck.

Never in her life had she ever had sex like this – never had she ever _fucked_ like this. If anyone else had tried to touch her this way she would have flipped out on them. she would have thought it was demeaning, misogynistic and painful – but not with Malfoy.

With Malfoy it was _perfect_ – there was no other way. It was raw, rough, urgent and heated. Lust coursed through her body in a way she had never known as she reacted purely on instinct. Each harsh thud against the wall sent a shiver of pain and pleasure down her spine and it ignited a fire in her body. She was drenched for him, her body was welcoming his every touch all while she still wanted to hurt him.

She fucking hated him.

He’d dropped her pinned arm to weave his hand into her hair and pulled it. She moaned and he swallowed her lips once more – hissing when she bit his lip hard enough to bruise. Her grip on his body tightened and her fingers dug into the skin on his shoulders as she felt the coil at her center wind impossibly tight. Her body was trembling, Malfoy was panting, she was sweating, and she arched her back against the wall and pushed into him further as a low moan escaped her. She tugged at his collar as his movements became harder, faster – he was close and she felt like she was going to explode. Her whole body grew tense and she clawed at him more desperately.

She gasped for air, she rolled her hips, she clung to his collar. He gripped her painfully tight as he fucked her. Her eyes had rolled shut and Malfoy was tugging her head back by her hair so her neck was fully exposed. It was the most uncomfortable position she’d ever been in, back arched, leg raised, hips out and neck bent so far back that she couldn’t move her head. But despite this her eyes shot wide as she came, her mouth opening in a silent scream as Malfoy’s lips closed hard on her neck and she heard him groan deeply. The low baritone sound reverberated through her body and made a second wave of pleasure crash through, and a low throaty moan poured from her lips.

His hips bucked against her sporadically and she felt her legs go numb as he pressed her further into the wall, both of them riding out their orgasms as they panted. His grip on her hair loosened and her head fell forward to collide with his shoulder. Her whole body was shaking, and her fingers seemed permanently embedded into his skin. Tremors rolled through her and she shuddered against him, clinging to him as he continued to hold her up against the wall. She could feel his hot breath on her neck and the sweat from his body on her hands from where she still clutched him.

They stayed there panting and sweating for a moment until she felt her mind begin to clear and she froze.

 _I just fucked Malfoy,_ her eyes went wide and all she could see was his white dress shirt and blond hair. Her chin was resting on his shoulder and she could feel the side of his head tilted against hers.

Where was his suit jacket? When had that come off? She could see it on the ground behind him, but she had no recollection of it being removed. She could feel Malfoy stiffen before her and she knew that reality had just sunk in.

 _We just fucked_.

 _We just fucked at work. I fucked Malfoy. I fucked Malfoy at work. Malfoy fucked me against a wall – at work. I let Malfoy fuck me at work against a fucking wall!_ Her mind was in an endless loop as the panic built in her chest. _I can’t breathe – fuck I can’t, I – what have I done? What have I done! What did we do!_

She felt like she was going to pass out as terror crept over her body. She needed to leave. Right now. She needed to leave – she couldn’t look at him. She was confused, disgusted, relaxed and so tense she thought she might vomit. She couldn’t stomach the idea of looking into his eyes and seeing her own emotion mirrored there. She couldn’t do it. She wanted to forget – she wanted to leave and go home and shower and forget that this had happened. She never did this – she never _fucked_ people. She didn’t do hook-ups – and she didn’t fuck Malfoy. How the fuck had this happened?!

She felt her occlumency wall lock down like a vault and she shoved her emotions in a dark corner of her mind, knowing she would box them up properly later.

She forced her sore and tired limbs to move and she pushed him away from her, she could feel his softening member slip from her slick and swollen channel, but she kept her eyes on the wall behind them. Her arms were shaking as she unwound them from his body and dropped them to her waist to push down her skirt.

He didn’t move, he just stood there as she side stepped around him and summoned the proposal pages from the floor. She didn’t know if he had looked at her – or was looking at her. She kept her eyes on the wall, she didn’t look at him, she didn’t look anywhere – she couldn’t. Wordlessly she cast a quick glamour on her face and neck and then pushed her way out of the empty office, wrenching the door closed tightly behind her. Her legs shook as she walked down the hall to the elevator – she smelled like sex.

She cast a quick refreshing charm on herself and magically buttoned the top two buttons on her shirt that she normally left open. She felt the need to conceal every bit of skin on her body. The refresh charm may have removed the scent of sex but the sweat was still there. She could feel it, she could feel him. She could taste him on her lips, on her tongue. She could still feel his hard body against hers, his breath on her neck, his fingers on her skin. She could feel his perfect skin on her fingers and the way that his body had moved against hers. In hers. It sent a chill down her back.

Her mind was replaying the sound he’d made when he came, it was echoing in her head. The sound he had made when he came _inside_ _her._ She pulled the elevator door closed tightly behind her and leaned back against the wall, eyes fixed on the floor as her hands trembled. Her panties were soaking wet, and she could feel _it_ – it was starting to leak back out and was trickling down her thigh.

His seed. Malfoy’s come. _Malfoy_ had come inside her and it was now leaking down her leg. Her brain stalled.

She banished it wordlessly, not allowing herself to think on it any further for fear of losing control of her occlumency. Her whole body began to shake. When the elevator opened on her floor she darted to her office, eyes downcast the entire way. She stuffed the proposal sheets she held in her hands into her backpack and gathered the rest of the materials from her desk. Nothing about her behaviour would even be considered odd but Hermione’s heart thudded loudly in her chest as she robotically packed her work.

She needed to get home so she could explode – she couldn’t do it here. She needed to be at home, safe from any chance of prying ears or eyes. Tracey wasn’t at her desk – she was likely getting coffee and so Hermione grabbed the missing appendices from the girl’s desk and shoved them into her bag too. Once she was sure that she had everything she forced her trembling legs to carry her back to the elevator and through the Ministry hallways.


	6. A Dugbogless Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – where do we go from here…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

To say that Hermione’s Thursday afternoon and evening was _abnormal_ would have been an incredible understatement. She arrived home at 4:15pm, dropped her bag on the floor, locked down her flat wards and immediately ran to her shower. She flipped the water on scorching hot, stripped off her clothes, vanished them entirely and then jumped inside the stall. She scrubbed herself raw as she tried to wash away the smell and feel of Malfoy from her body – but regardless of how many times she soaped up and scrubbed her skin she could still feel him.

And she knew in her soul that she would never be able to rid herself of the feeling of him moving _inside_ her. The feel of his thick cock thrusting in and out of her body would be forever engrained in her mind.

She refused to allow herself to think as she washed, keeping her occlumency walls firmly set and pushing the memories to the back of her mind. It wasn’t until she stepped out of the shower, saw her reflection in the mirror and the bruises that littered her body that the walls finally fell, and the memories came rushing back in. She groaned loudly and slapped her hand over her own face then threaded her fingers into her hair in panic only to think of the feel of _his_ hands in her hair and she flushed with a new round of desire. Her brain cycled rapid fire through countless emotions. She was unable to process what had happened or how she felt about it. The only thing she knew for certain was that her body felt sore, satisfied and thoroughly well fucked.

That thought sent a new round of shivers down her spine as she furiously brushed her teeth. She couldn’t look at herself in the mirror again – she was too ashamed.

But what ate away like acid at the pit of her stomach was the fact that she _wasn’t_ ashamed that it had _happened_ – she was ashamed that she’d _liked_ it.

How had Malfoy, the boy who had relentlessly tormented her throughout school and who had been ruining her adult life made her feel like that? How had he made her come? Why did thinking of it make her feel simultaneously sick with anxiety and turned on?

She’d always struggled to reach orgasm and yet on their first time – and only time she added mentally – she’d come so hard her body still hadn’t stopped shaking. Never in her life had she ever clung to someone so tightly or fucked someone that hard. Merlin, Hermione had never _fucked_ anyone. She had only ever had sex inside of relationships and it was always very tame. Super vanilla. She had no experience with heated aggressive sex and yet here she was riddled with bruises after fucking the person she hated more than anything – _at work_.

Had Malfoy not warded the office someone would have heard them, someone could have walked in – but during the act the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. In fact, she had not thought at all. Her brain had switched off entirely and she had reacted on nothing but hormones and need. Though why she felt she _needed_ Malfoy was not something that she could understand. She tried to think on it, but it only hurt her head and left her more confused. It was incomprehensible, an unsolvable puzzle.

What shocked her more than almost anything else though, was despite how freaked out and panicked she was as she dressed herself in comfortable clothes and stumbled around on shaky legs – she had yet to cry. In fact, she didn’t feel like crying at all. She was angry, she hated him, she was confused and didn’t understand what had happened – but she wasn’t _upset_ , and she found that she couldn’t even bring herself to fully regret it.

Had it been the single stupidest thing she’d ever done in her life to date? Yes, without a doubt. Was it a terrible fucking mistake that was possibly going to ruin her career? Yeah, probably. But did she regret the _act_ of doing it, the experience of it all? No, she had wanted it at the time – and though the thought terrified her. She _didn’t_ regret fucking Malfoy.

After forcing herself to eat some food she sat curled on the couch, knees to her chest, completely quiet and staring at the wall for an entire hour as her mind raced. She felt like she should be screaming and ranting and running and punching – and yet all she could do was sit still as a statue. Like she was frozen in a state of denial and her mind blatantly refused to accept what she had done.

It did not compute. It did not align with any of her past behaviours or personality. She had operated outside of her parameters. She couldn’t grasp it. So, she did nothing but stare and allow the thoughts and memories to dance around in her head as her body shivered.

 _Why did Malfoy fuck me?_ the question surfaced in her mind after another fifteen minutes of sitting like a statue. Had he been planning too? Why had he warded the room? Why had he chased after her and dragged her into an empty office? Surely he remembered what happened the last time they were alone in a locked room. Or was he truly just _so_ angry with blind rage that he wasn’t thinking and he had, at the time, simply wanted to scream at her undisturbed?

Hermione could not help but feel that the latter was true. There was _no_ way that Malfoy wanted to fuck her. She doubted that he was even attracted to her – in fact he was probably at home puking out his guts out and drinking himself unconscious right now. He’d probably burned his clothes and showered himself in bleach. Honestly it wouldn’t surprise her if the rich prat had a pensive and he simply removed the memories from his head all together. There was no way that he would be able to live with himself knowing what he had done – no fucking way. She’d felt the way he’d stiffened in her arms when he realized what had happened. He probably vomited the second she left the room.

 _No,_ she thought as she swallowed hard. _It was a mistake, there’s no way he did it on purpose._

Ginny had described angry hate sex to her before, but at the time Hermione had not understood it. She sure as shit did now though – that _had_ to be what this was. Malfoy fucking hated her and she hated him, and they had just angrily hate fucked each other. That was all. It was simple. She could feel the logical side of her brain taking charge as her posture relaxed a fraction.

Biologically, in a strange way, it almost made sense – attraction and hate were emotions and signals that often got tangled together. For example, studies were done that showed that humans would get the urge to _bite_ something if it was too _cute_. It was a fact – if your brain cannot handle the cuteness of something it actually signals you to bite it as a countermeasure. That must be what this was. They just hated each other so fucking much that their brains told them to fuck. Ginny said that hate fucking happened all the time.

She swallowed, her eyes flicking to the empty vial on the kitchen counter. They’d hate fucked each other without a second thought – and he’d come inside her. Malfoy – _Malfoy_ the pureblood prat – had come inside her. His cock had been in her. She shivered and forced those thoughts to the back of her mind, continuing to stare at the vial.

There were two types of contraceptive potions in the wizarding world. One you took before sex – it tasted good and could be made to be effective for up to six months if brewed by a competent potions master. The other you took after sex and it tasted like fucking shit. She’d taken the latter contraceptive potion before she ate. It was awful, she had to cover her mouth so she didn’t spit it back out. It was why most witches just regularly took the other one – Hermione hadn’t been because she hadn’t been intending to have sex.

_How could he have done that? How could he be so fucking irresponsible? For all he knows I don’t have the potion or didn’t take it in time!_

It raised another set of impossible to answer questions in her head and it made her feel angry once more. How could they have been so careless? Didn’t he need to worry about his pureblood legacy and inheritance? Did he regularly fuck random people? Was he clean?

She would run a few standard tests before bed to make sure.

She continued to sit quietly for another half an hour until her body stopped trembling. There was no point in continuing the endless mental wanderings, she had no answers to the questions that flooded her head and at the end of the day life goes on. The world and her job would not spare her a day off to deal with what had happened – and after what _had_ happened she really could not afford to slack. She needed to do her work and do it right.

So, she forced the memories, feelings and questions into a neat little box at the back of her head, locked down her occlumency once more and forced herself up from the couch. She gathered her backpack from the ground and moved toward her table. She ignored Artemis’ indignant hoot as she flicked her wand to turn on a low playing list of classical music. Then she settled at her table and began pouring through her work. Everything had changed, and yet nothing had changed.

She needed her job – better yet, she _wanted_ her job. And that meant that she _had_ to get this proposal done and she _had_ to work with Malfoy. If she was lucky, and she doubted that she would be, he would quit. Maybe fucking a mudblood would be enough to rattle him so deeply that he finally gave up and left. He didn’t need the job according to Harry, he just wanted it. Surely after what had happened, he would leave her alone. Surely he wouldn’t continue in a role where he had to interact with her on a weekly if not daily basis.

Her stomach rolled as she thought about having to return to work tomorrow and she felt her occlumency falter. She wished that she could call Ginny and tell her what had happened but there was no chance in hell that she was going to tell _anyone_ that she’d fucked Malfoy. As accepting as her friends were of his return to society as a good clean man, they would be sickened that she’d done it. They would never understand. Even _Hermione_ did not understand it. She couldn’t deny the fact that it happened, or the fact that she’d wanted it and liked it, or the fact that it had felt incredible – but she couldn’t help but feel slightly sick with herself.

How had she fucked him? How had she had sex with such a cruel asshole who treated her like crap?

She groaned and shook her head. That was something that she would never be able to answer, and right now she needed to focus on her proposal and get it done. Taking a deep breath, she breathed out low and long and forced her tense shoulders to drop. Hermione picked up her pen once more and forced her occlumency back into place, then began working her way through Malfoy’s comments. At 2:11am she finished the proposal and had updated the charms. Standing stiffly with a groan she placed her work in her bag and headed to bed – all the while trying to ignore the tenderness between her legs.

-x-x-

“Hermione – I’m _so_ sorry, yesterday I forgot the appendices, I’d put them off to the side while I was working and I forgot! They weren’t in the folder that I gave you,” Tracey looked genuinely distressed.

She’d stood from her seat the second she saw Hermione coming down the hall Friday morning. Though this was unsurprising, Hermione had already caught wind in the elevators that Daphne had spread the word that Malfoy had been so fucking angry with her that he’d stormed after her when she’d left his office – though thankfully, no one knew where they went or what happened. No one knew that they’d fucked in an empty office just down the hall. They only knew that the screaming in his office had been the worst and most deadly it had been yet – several people had even struggled to find it amusing like they usually did. It was almost like people were starting to realize that her dynamic with Malfoy was distressingly terrible.

 _Fascinating,_ Hermione had thought dryly while she’d stepped off the elevator. _Apparently, it took ‘hate-fucking’ levels of hatred for people to realize our behaviour isn’t a fucking joke._

“It’s fine – I grabbed the missing appendices off your desk yesterday and reviewed through all the comments last night. I should have checked what you gave me yesterday, but I appreciate the apology just the same,” Hermione said flatly as she opened her office door. “Tracey can you please book boardroom C on the third floor and get Anton? I need both you and him in there at 10:30am – tell Daphne that Malfoy _must_ be there as well. The only way we will get this Dugbog proposal finished on time for next week is if we finalize the MPaS input today – understood?”

“Yes – absolutely – I’ll get right on it!” Tracey quickly moved around her desk and made for the elevators to go get everything set up and organized.

With the help of her occlumency a bizarre sort of detachment had encompassed Hermione while she slept and in the morning when she woke, while she still felt confused, she also felt removed from herself and what had happened. She knew that she was bottling it up and pushing it down so that she didn’t have to deal with it – but she didn’t care. Not today. She would deal with the ramifications of occluding her emotions later like she always planned to. Today she needed to keep her shit together and get the review comments with Malfoy resolved so that next week she could finish the proposal.

Besides – it wasn’t like she would _ever_ be able to deal with what happened. There was no way to _deal_ with the fact that you fucked your mortal enemy. It was just a thing that you buried down deep because there was no logical way to process it.

 _Is Malfoy even in today? Would he take the day off? Maybe he’s quit – or maybe he’ll refuse to come to the meeting and be a no show,_ she snorted at the thought. _Of course that asshole will show up._

Sure enough, at 10:30am Malfoy strolled into the conference room with Daphne hot on his heels. He looked the same as ever, perfect blonde hair, bright blue-grey eyes, pressed three-piece suit, smug expression and tantalizing smell. He didn’t look at her when he first entered the boardroom and instead silently took his seat on the opposite side of the table. Daphne, looking pleased with herself for managing to get him there on time left the room and closed the door behind her.

Hermione took a silent breath and reinforced her occlumency. _Time to rip the band-aid off and get this shit done_.

“I’ve reviewed the comments that you made on the proposal,” Hermione started in a firm but calm tone. She was glad that Tracey and Anton were in the room or there was no fucking way in hell she would be able to look at the man across from her. Occlumency or not his eyes had darted up to hers when she started speaking and it had made her heart flutter. He seemed to be watching her more intently than usual, like he was searching her for weakness. “I apologize for missing the appendices yesterday–“

“I’m sorry sir that was my fault,” Tracey said in a quiet voice, but Malfoy’s eyes never left Hermione’s. She brushed of Tracey’s comment and continued.

“Regardless of _how_ it happened – I went through the comments that you made and cross referenced them to the appendices. The majority of the comments are already addressed in the proposal,” she handed him a copy of the updated proposal along with a reference sheet that showed the sections that addressed his concerns. His eyes briefly flicked down to the papers before him before they flicked back up to her face. She felt nervous under his gaze, but she bit it down. He was looking at her with the same irritated, and hateful expression as always – yet she couldn’t help but feel like there was a hint of something else lingering behind his eyes. “So today I would like to finish going through the remainder of the open comments to get the path forward resolved, that way over the weekend and next week we will finalize the proposal and it will align with _everyone’s_ expectations with no surprises. Final sign off will be Wednesday since I know that you have a meeting with Harry on Thursday and Friday of next week – does that work Malfoy?”

She couldn’t help but think that his hand had twitched when she said his name, but the movement was so quick she couldn’t be sure. She felt a strange warm flutter against her mind but when she focused on it, it was like it had never existed so she attributed it to her nerves. She eyed him as she waited for a response.

“Make it Tuesday,” he said snidely, his eyes flicking down to the papers before him once more as he started to read. “My Wednesday will be busy in preparation for Potter’s meetings – and despite what your summary sheet says – I will _not_ accept the recommendation to tag Dugbogs as you’ve outlined in Appendix E. It’s inefficient and will result in more people than Anton getting his ankles mauled.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Hermione said slowly as her eyes narrowed. “We will have the final proposal ready for Tuesday at _lunch_ – anything earlier than that is impractical – but I am not revising Appendix E until you provide me with a better suggestion. Stating ‘ _this is a stupid fucking idea_ ’ doesn’t tell me what you don’t like about it.”

The meeting continued for three hours. During that time Hermione refrained from throwing anything at Malfoy because Tracey and Anton were in the room and Malfoy refrained from dumping water on her work or slamming her against any walls. Though even still – they yelled, groaned, cursed, stood up, pointed fingers and swore like sailors. At the start of the meeting Tracey and Anton had shown the same amused expressions that everyone did when they heard her and Malfoy fighting. Yet as the meeting had dragged on their enthusiasm for the show visibly wore thin and they started to look nervous and exhausted.

At one point in the meeting, Anton’s eyes had went wide and his fist had tighten on his pen. Hermione seen Tracey cover her mouth in shock and her whole body had flinched. People had always listened in on their arguments but no one had ever _seen_ them, and apparently being there firsthand, confined to a room with them for three hours, was a different experience all together. It wasn’t as fun as they had thought it would be. In fact, it looked like they were hating it.

Daphne had brought in coffee halfway through and Hermione had knocked back three cups before spreading out the map on the table and leaning across it to show Malfoy the layout. Malfoy had taken a similar position on the opposite side, leaning toward the center of the table and arguing with her over the ward boundaries while Tracey had desperately tried to keep up with her note taking.

Anton had sputtered like an idiot in shock when Malfoy hurled three rapid questions at him and then berated his poor documentation of the most Southern bog. Tracey had been unable to find the records of her floo conversation with the third greenhouse owner and had nearly cried when Malfoy yelled at her and called her incompetent. Hermione had had to pull her own records out of her bag to satisfy Malfoy’s questions. It took all of her inner strength not to hurl the document at his face and instead she slapped it down firmly on his outstretched hand. He’d glared death at her but eventually they had resolved the issue.

By the time they had reached an agreement on all of the comments both Hermione and Malfoy were stripped of the suit jackets – having taken them off in the heat of battle so they could argue better and point more furiously. They were both sweating and gripping the table so tightly their knuckles were white. Hermione’s face was flushed, her legs were trembling, and she was panting from the yelling. She knew that Malfoy could see it and she wondered if it made him think about what had happened three offices down the day before.

They _both_ knew that they were wearing glamours to hide their bruises and bite marks. Malfoy _knew_ her trembling legs weren’t from anger; it was from the exertion the day before when they’d fucked against a wall. Just like how she _knew_ his carefully selected high collared white dress shirt was likely to help hide the marks on his neck – the ones that the glamour did not quite cover. Just like how she had chosen to wear a cute fall scarf today to hide her own.

But neither one of them said anything.

She knew he was disappointed that she’d come in to work today, she could feel it, just like how she knew he was livid that she was behaving normally and had not given a single hint that anything had happened. He wanted her to break first. She refused.

 _You’ll be waiting a long time_ , she thought as she smirked when Malfoy finally conceded on the ward boundaries provided that she agree to his tagging modifications. His eyes narrowed at her as she smirked at him and she could feel his gaze burning into her.

He was pissed.

When the meeting finally ended Malfoy left the room and Anton and Tracey both let out audible sighs, slouching deep into their chairs. Anton dropped his head hard against the large table and both his arms went limp and drooped on either side of him. They sat for several long quiet minutes before both of them stood on shaking legs and helped Hermione collect the papers from the table.

Hermione didn’t bother commenting on the fact that Tracey’s hands shook as she collected up her files. Nor did she remark on the fact that Anton was sulking like a dog who had been told he was ‘ _bad’_. Maybe she was heartless – but she did not feel bad for them. She knew that they had gotten it worse than what Malfoy typically gave to other people because _she_ was in the room so his temper was raging – but this was good for them. They needed this. It was just a taste of the hell she’d endured every day she dealt with Malfoy and maybe it would make them realize that their role was actually important. That they needed to pull their weight.

They followed her silently down the hallway to the elevators, looking battle worn and exhausted. It wasn’t until the elevator door opened on the second floor that Tracey quietly asked her if working with Malfoy was like this ‘ _every time_ ’. Hermione simply stared at the girl, brow arched and then said ‘ _Yes – every time. What – didn’t you find it amusing?’_

Perhaps it was a low blow, but it was difficult to give a crap. Dealing with the shitstorm that was her life left no room available for her to pity the people who had _helped_ dig the hole she was in. Tracey had looked hurt by her words, but instead of complaining, making a snide remark or defending herself she simply nodded, promised to have the revisions to the appendices completed by 3pm and then she retreated to her desk. Anton had only looked at her, his expression was odd – and if Hermione didn’t know any better, she would have thought it almost looked like he respected her.

Regardless of everything, she was pleased. Weary and exhausted, she felt like she’d run a fucking marathon yes – but they had done it. The proposal was _done_ , it simply needed to be updated and assembled. She spent the remainder of her day locked in her office working on the main proposal and completing the changes. Tracey, true to her promise, dropped off the modified appendices and refused to leave Hermione’s office until she confirmed that everything was there. Anton brought her a coffee at 3:30pm and offered to help her finished the updates to the ward charms while Tracey completed a first pass review on the changes Hermione had made. By 6pm they were all ready to go home and Hermione had a first pass of the final draft in her bag – after double checking three times with the two of them that she did indeed have everything.

She would review it again on Saturday morning – complete a full _yellow-off_ check across her notes to ensure that all of Malfoy’s comments had been addressed. The proposal would go to Tracey Monday morning for formatting and Hermione would double check everything again Monday afternoon. Then Tuesday morning they planned to review it yet again as a group and unbelievably – it would be ready for Malfoy to review and sign by lunch. She would actually be able to sleep this weekend and go to Angelina’s birthday party tomorrow. It felt surreal.

Hermione sighed deeply as she leaned her head against the wall in the elevator, her backpack weighed heavy on her shoulders. She could not wait to get home, remove her glamours, take a shower and them go to bed. Somehow, regardless of it being the most fucked up week of her life, things were coming together.

-x-x-

“Hermione you came!” Angelina’s squeal of excitement made Hermione’s lips curl into a smile. The girl had always been kind to her, but since becoming pregnant she had become even more happy go lucky and she grabbed Hermione into a tight hug.

 _“Umpff,”_ the air was squeezed from Hermione’s lungs as the girl’s round belly poked into her stomach. “Of course I came – it’s your birthday!”

“I know – but you’re always working so hard and Ginny told me that this week was particularly bad for you so I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it,” Angelina pulled away and squeezed both of Hermione’s arms. “I’m really glad that you did – thank you for coming.”

“Me too,” Hermione grinned at the girl widely.

She meant it. Truly.

She needed this and she felt like she deserved it. She’d gotten home from work the day before at 6:30pm, ordered take out food, eaten it all and then passed out before 8pm. She didn’t wake up Saturday until 9am and then she’d spent the morning and afternoon thoroughly double checking the proposal and making some minor revisions. So when 6pm approached and it was time to get ready for the birthday party she had done so with gusto.

She’d taken a long luxurious shower, used one of the hair charms that Harry had shown her, put on her best dark skinny jeans, heels and pulled out her favourite sweater – a grey knit with an open back held together at the top with a silver chain that had a long dangling chain along her spine. She had never been big on showing much skin, but she liked showing off her back. She’d used her most expensive healing balm to force her bruises from the encounter with Malfoy to heal and then apparated to the party with only her two regular glamours in effect.

If felt nice. She felt like herself.

“Have you tried some of the cake? I made George promise not to do anything weird to it.”

“No, I haven’t – but I will,” Hermione grinned, noticing the people to their right who were waiting to talk to the birthday girl. “I’ll let you go say hi to your other guests and go get some cake.”

“Okay,” Angelina beamed. “Oh, and go get a drink! I can’t so you need to have one on my behalf, you deserve one!”

Hermione smiled again and watched as the extremely pregnant girl made her way over to the new people who had just entered the Leaky Cauldron and were waiting to greet her. Then she weaved her way over to the left side of the room, saying hello to people she knew as she went and stopping to chat with George near the cake table. She ate a piece, despite her better judgement, she knew it was risky – promise or not George never gave up the opportunity to mess with people. Then she spoke with Neville and his wife. They had hired someone to man the bar so they could visit and partake in the party and Neville told her about the new garden he had installed in the old empty courtyard. It was charmed to protect the plants and password protected – he gave her the password and told her to make sure she checked it out before she left.

After speaking with Neville she was corralled by Ron over to see his wife – it followed the same pattern that it always did. She and Ron’s wife stared at each other uncomfortably while Ron prattled on about how she worked too hard and must be lonely. He told her that she should come by for dinner and to visit with the kids because it would be good for her and that she needed to take better care of herself. Just when Hermione thought she might actually lose her mind and hex the boy Ginny stepped in and came to the rescue.

“Hermione! Oh thank goodness – look Harry needs to talk to you about clause 91-C-B in the Protection act, he’s on a case that involves some smuggled creatures – sorry Ron! He was saying that in the event that the animals are – “ Ginny looked over her shoulder quick to see that Ron was now arguing with his wife, likely about Hermione, but was no longer watching them. Then she tugged Hermione around a rather packed table and out of view. “Thought you might need a savior.”

The red head winked at her and took a sip from her wine glass.

“Oh my god Ginny, _thank you_ – you are my white knight,” Hermione pulled the girl into a tight hug and then stepped back. “By the way for future reference the Protection act only goes up to clause 87.”

“Right – I’ll keep that in mind but somehow I doubt Ron knows that,” Ginny laughed but gave her a genuine smile. “Hermione I am so glad that you came – were you able to get through that proposal okay?”

“Yeah – actually I wanted to thank you, your advice really helped. I forced everyone in a room Friday and we somehow managed to get through everything,” Hermione smiled at her. “So, thank you for that – I actually have the proposal done and can get some sleep tonight.”

“Good! Before you sleep though – you can actually have some fun tonight then! Ugh I’m so glad that you – oh shit – GEORGE! Dammit, he fucking jinxed one side of the cake,” Ginny said as she craned her neck to look at a person by the cake table who was turning purple as sparks shot from the top of their head like a sparkler.

“Wait which side?! I ate some!” Hermione said, panic growing in her stomach, she did not want to spend her one evening free as a human sparkler.

“You _ate_ the cake?! Fucking hell Hermione what is wrong with you?! How long have you been a part of our family? It was the right side by the way – fuck okay I need to go get Harry.”

“Fuck – okay, I’m alright – he gave me a piece from the left,” Hermione pressed her hand to her chest and let out a sigh.

“I always knew he liked you best – okay go get a drink we’ll catch up later, I gotta go beat him into submission and get the counter-jinx before something catches fire,” Ginny gave Hermione an apologetic look and darted across the room to the scene that was unfolding before the cake table.

Taking one last look at the human sparkler Hermione shook her head and turned to the bar, weaving her way around the crowds of people who were watching the mayhem unfold. She slipped between two occupied stools and ordered a nice glass of brandy – not quite as nice as the one at the Annual Remediation Banquet, but still nice enough. Taking a long sip, she smiled, breathed in a deep sigh of relief and turned to watch the commotion – nearly collided face first into a tall well-dressed man.

“Perhaps you should refrain from drinking Granger – as it seems you are _incapable_ of doing so without stumbling drunk into other guests.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she glared at Malfoy. “I’m _not_ drunk – I _just_ got this – _and_ I _didn’t_ spill it.”

She could feel her occlumency slipping as memories of their encounter started to pour into her brain. _No not now! Not now! Don’t you dare fucking react – you keep your face calm dammit!_

“Not _yet_ – I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you do and ruin someone’s evening,” Malfoy sneered at her, though he wasn’t quite able to hide his surprise at seeing her.

“Perhaps _you_ should have a drink, it might help you pull the stick out of your ass – and don’t you even fucking dare think about taking this one!” Hermione snapped at him, side stepping toward the left and away from the party to gain more distance when his eyes had darted to the drink in her hand. He looked more agitated than usual, his cool demeanor appeared to be slipping, and he was looking at her intently. “ _This_ one is _mine_ – I’m sure you can afford to buy your own.”

“Unlike _you_ – I don’t drink my problems away,” he said darkly, his eyes flicking between her glass and her face.

“You’re such an asshole!” she spat at him. With the commotion by the cake table it didn’t matter what she said or how loud she said it. No one was listening. Which was good because her own self-control was slipping. “I’m not drinking my problems away – _dick_ – I’m celebrating the fact that I finished the proposal this afternoon and I actually get a fucking night off for once! Unlike _you_ – I happen to be having a great time.”

She sneered her last words at him and promptly turned on her heel. Despite the cool composed exterior she somehow managed to keep on her face, seeing Malfoy again had caused a knot to form in her stomach – and instantly her desire to socialize and be merry disappeared.

Her occlumency walls were down, her emotions were raging, memories of the feel of his hands on her body were pressing to the forefront of her mind. She fought against a shiver that threatened to run down her spine when she remembered the feel of him thrusting into her. She needed to be alone. She needed air and space so she could breathe, drink her brandy and lock her occlumency walls back in place. She had not been expecting to see him, she didn’t know he was invited, and it had completely thrown her. Unsettling her to her core. She’d been prepared to see him Friday – she’d been ready, but she was not equipped to deal with this now.

Without stopping to think much on where she was going she made her way to the back of the bar, through the narrow hallway and out into the open courtyard using the password that Neville had given her. The air was cool and crisp – it smelled like fall and yet the light hint of a thousand different plants and spices filled her nose. Stepping forward across the cobblestone she rushed her way down a long row of peculiar looking plants and columns and felt her heart ease a fraction. Neville had such a talent with Herbology it was beautiful. The place was filled with flowers and green herb looking plants. She took a deep breath and ignored the slight shake of her legs as she moved.

_Breathe. Relax. Lock it down. Lock it down._

She’d made it to the end of a row near a large column and had taken another sip of her drink, setting it down on the edge of the garden rock wall when she felt familiar ward encircle around her. Her body tensed, then his voice rang out into the night directly to her left.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Granger? I _fucked_ you against an office wall yesterday and you’re behaving as if nothing happened – how fucking disconnected are you? Do you feel anything anymore?”

Hermione turned to see Malfoy standing only three feet away, she hadn’t heard him follow her, and now he was blocking her exit, standing in front of the column. She was at the end of the row with nowhere to go – behind her, only a brick wall. He looked livid, the final remains of his cool demeanor from inside the bar were shattered and his eyes were boring into her. Briefly she wondered how the hell he was able to get into the garden, but it quickly dawned on her that Neville must have given him the password – why she had no fucking idea.

More images of him pressing into her littered her mind and she shivered when she remembered the way his lips had felt across her skin. She was fucked – there was no way she would be able to box everything up now and go back to pretending it didn’t happen – it was all pouring out. She could feel anger building within her as she took in his furious expression and his words circled in her head.

_How fucking dare he! I’ve acted like nothing happened!? It’s not like he fucking said anything!_

Her jaw clenched.

It was like this man’s sole purpose in life was to make her miserable. What the fuck did he want? Was he mad that she didn’t quit? Was he angry that they’d fucked? Was he expecting her to be pathetic about it? Why couldn’t he just let her live in peace, pretend it didn’t happen and then they could move on with their lives. It was like he was determined to ruin any shred or hope of happiness that she had. Her hands curled into tight fists – and she snapped.

“ _I’ve_ behaved like nothing happened?! Are you fucking kidding me?! You haven’t said shit! You sat there all day yesterday and didn’t say a fucking word about it! What is it that you want Malfoy? You want me to explode – you want me to scream?! I _already_ scream at you _every_ fucking time I see you – how much more of a reaction do you want?! Maybe I didn’t say anything because I’m having a hard time dealing with the fact that I let you fuck me – _you! _The guy who stood by and watched while I was tortured on his fucking parlor floor – the guy who _tormented_ me through school and has made my job and life a living hell!” Hermione stepped into the space between them and shoved him hard.

She was surprised to see that he actually stumbled backward and hit the column that was two feet behind him. Somehow this only made her angrier, her hatred twisted into a raging inferno – what, so they fuck and now he will let her push him around? Was he afraid to interact with or touch her again? She fucking hated him – he ruined _everything._

She snarled at him and closed the gap between them, grabbing his suit and shoving him against the column once more. His hands came up to grab her wrists and he spun her around and pushed her hard into the cold brick surface.

“Let go of my wrists Malfoy!” she jerked her hands and glared up at him. Clearly, she had been wrong about the no touching and no reacting to her thing because he was glaring down at her with a burning hatred that suggested he would be more than happy to deck her in the face if he so felt like it.

“Fucking _finally_!” he spat, fighting against her attempts to break away. “So you _can_ act like an actual human being about this – here I was thinking that you were nothing but a cold empty shell of a person incapable of feeling _anything_!”

“ _Fuck you_!” she spat, lurching hard in his arms.

“You already did!” he sneered, ramming her hard against the column and leaning in closer. “What’s the matter Granger – are you afraid to admit that you liked it? Are you ashamed of the fact that you fucked a pureblood prat? Scared that Potter and your Weasleys will find out and disown you?”

“Don’t project your _own_ fucking insecurities on me Malfoy,” Hermione struggled in his hold. Keenly aware of the fact that their bodies were once again pasted against one another in the cold night air. His face was only inches from hers. “Are you looking for me to say I regret it so you can feel better about yourself? Do you want me to say that _I_ initiated it so you don’t have to face the fact that _you_ dragged me into that office? Tell me – how much does it hurt Malfoy – knowing that _your_ family would fucking disown you because _you_ fucked a dirty _mudblood_?”

“Don’t say that word,” he growled. His body had stilled against hers and his hands were clutching her wrists tightly between them. She could feel the heat from his body bleeding into her.

“That bad huh,” Hermione said quietly, her voice a low whisper as she refused to look away from his eyes. “Deny it all you want to, but it is what I am. You fucked a mudbl–“

“Don’t fucking say it!” Malfoy thumped her against the wall again and pushed her hands against the brick, pressing up against her body hard to hold her in place with his own. His head dipped low and she felt his lips move against her ear as he spoke in a harsh deep whisper. “Don’t – fucking – say – that – again. You don’t know a _fucking_ thing about me. You pretend like you’ve moved on, like you’re past the war – like you’re some righteous bleeding heart who’s wiped the slate clean – that you’re willing to accept people and give them a second chance but it’s fucking _bullshit_. You’re holding on to _everything_ like a fucking packrat and whipping it out whenever it suits you best.”

“I am not!” she rolled her body against him, trying to push him away but he only moved his head back a few inches so she could see his face. He looked livid, his face was flushed, and his eyes were burning. “Don’t talk like you know me – I’m _not_ holding on to anything!”

“Biggest fucking lie of the century,” he sneered in her face.

“ _You_ \- you have harassed me since the second you took your fucking position – you’ve done nothing but continue the same shit from school! So don’t you fucking dare say that I’m the one hauling the past around you asshole!”

“I criticized your _work_ and you fucking exploded!” Malfoy seethed. “ _Everything_ I said on that report was fair – it may be hard for you to believe Granger but I don’t actually _hate_ muggles!”

She snorted and glared at him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “So it’s just me then? Not at all related to my muggleborn nature – you just hate me?”

“Fuck you are so fucking stupid – I don’t _hate_ you because you’re a muggleborn!” he looked anguished, like he could not deal with the rage that was surging within him. His voice was rough as his words growled from his mouth an inch from her face. “I _hate_ you because you drive me fucking _crazy_! You’re annoying, difficult, irrational, blunt – you have no fucking manners and you can’t take any criticism without instantly assuming it’s a fucking personal attack! You get so worked up and full of rage that you’re _unreasonable_! You’re the most demanding and exhausting person to ever come into existence on this godforsaken planet and you’re always so fucking sure of yourself and _so_ fucking _confident_ in your own _brilliance_ that you never stop to look around and consider that you _might_ be wrong!”

Then he kissed her, his mouth burning against her skin like fire. It was unmistakable this time – _he_ had initiated it. She had been fairly certain that she’d been the one to do it in his office, but this time it was all him.

It was like he hated her so much he couldn’t handle keeping it in anymore and it exploded out in a wave. Her mouth opened instinctively and his tongue flooded her mouth. He was smothering her senses, he tasted like heaven. She groaned into his mouth as he took her lip between his and sucked. It hurt, but she liked it. She’d craved it. She felt a wave of pleasure roll through her body as he pressed himself hard against her and his grip on her wrists tightened.

And without thinking – she apparated them away to her flat.


	7. The Otter and The Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – what happens when you can’t run away because (like an idiot) you brought him to your home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

_CRACK!!_

They landed in the center of her dimly lit living room. Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind she heard Artemis hoot in surprise, but she did absolutely nothing with that information. Her mind was too preoccupied with the lips that were crushing against hers with bruising force. He tasted so good it was painful. She nearly stumbled when her feet hit the ground and if not for his tight grip on her wrists she surely would have fallen over to the floor. Miraculously, despite her fractured concentration, she did not splinch them and their motions had not missed a beat.

He dropped her one wrist and weaved his hand into the hair at the base of her neck. She groaned in response and grabbed his shirt tightly in her hand, yanking him toward her and stepping back into the hallway that lead to her bedroom. They moved seamlessly, like two people who had done this a million times, like he knew her body and its motions from memory. His lips left hers to trace and bite along her jaw roughly as she kicked off her heels one foot at a time as they moved down her hallway. She clutched him closer to her body, her nails dug into the soft fabric of his suit and she moaned as his hand gripped her hip and he tugged her into him.

His hands were all over her now and she’d tugged his dress shirt from his pants. The unfamiliar sounds of their panting moans filled her empty flat and echoed down the hall around them. They pushed through her bedroom doorway and he threw the door closed behind him before pushing her against the wall on her left. She could feel her own silencing wards surround them now – she’d silenced her bedroom years ago so she would have a safe place to scream or cry, but tonight the wards would serve a different purpose.

A heavy heat flooded her body as the cool wall touched the bare skin of her back and desire consumed her. There was no turning back now, her brain had officially checked out for the evening and her body had taken the reins. His thigh nudged between her legs in a familiar fashion and gave her that much needed pressure against her core. She pushed his suit jacket from his shoulders as he pressed into her, her fingers slipping easily under the fabric before she moved it fluidly down his arms. He hissed when she bit him and thumped her roughly against the wall.

She gasped as his hands grabbed the bottom of her grey sweater, removing his lips from hers momentarily so he could tear the shirt off over her head. The second the fabric left her body she crashed her lips back to his and pulled him closer once more. Her hands clawed at his dress shirt as he ground himself against her and kissed her ferociously. She was sandwiched between his hard body and the cold wall and it made her pulse race as she rolled her hips against his leg. Their teeth clicked, his hands gripped her hard, she heard him groan – or was that her?

Then everything started to blur, the heat was becoming overwhelming and time seemed to speed up as their desperate motions grew quicker.

His fingers had moved to her waist, her pants were slipping down her legs, she’d unbuttoned his white dress shirt and pushed it down his strong porcelain arms. Her hands were at his waist, she was removing his belt, tugging at his pants, her bra was gone, his thumb traced over the skin of her breast and across her taut nipple. She could feel the warmth of his naked chest against her and then she was moving. He’d tugged her away from the wall and shoved her toward the bed. Her hands collided with the surface as her knees hit the edge of the bed and she growled angrily.

She stood up to turn around and face him – her mind returning to her briefly as she thought about punching him straight in the fucking face for throwing her. But he’d already closed the distance between them and plastered himself behind her. His hand wrapped around her body and gripped her neck tightly, forcing her head up so he could crush his lips against hers once more. Her mind instantly floated away at his touch and she groaned deeply as his cock pressed into her backside.

 _Fucckk_.

Her brain felt fractured. Her body felt like it had ignited at his touch and she trembled against him and kissed him hard.

His free hand slid down across her waist and dipped between her legs. She shuddered when his fingers dipped into her slick folds and she grabbed at the hand holding her neck as she gasped for air between their lips. The coil in her center shot to life like it had been hit with a heart restarting charm. The angle of her head was agonizingly painful, his grip was tight enough it made her heart thud in her ears – but she fucking loved it. She couldn’t get enough of it as she squirmed against him. The feel of his fingers slipping inside her and grazing across her clit was mind-numbing bliss. She arched her back into his chest and bit at his lips as she dug her nails into his arm.

He groaned against her and used his feet to push her legs farther part. His hand slipped away from her center and she knew what was coming – she could feel the tip of his cock between her legs and she arched her back for him. He thrust into her hard. Hermione felt her vision blur and they both groaned. He tilted her head back further as he leaned her forward. She moaned, gripping his arm with one hand and placing the other on the bed for support as he drove into her.

Somehow, she’d forgotten how big he was, how fucking full he made her feel, how tight it would be – though the thought barely registered in the deep dark depths of her mind.

His movements turned her body into an incoherent bag of mush. She put her knee up on the bed and leaned forward more, arching herself into him. His grip on her neck loosened and he slid his hand around to grab the back of her neck and hair tightly – pulling her head back as his hand held her hip and his fingers dug into her skin. It was so rough it hurt – but she didn’t want it to stop. Every time he drove into her, she felt her hatred swell and the coil in her center tighten. She was flooded with desire, possessed by want.

Her arms trembled and her legs shook as angry lust filled her – she wanted to be able to touch him. She wanted to be able to drag her nails down his back. She wanted to bite him, taste him, make him squirm.

She pushed herself up off the bed and arched her back to stand up against him, pushing him away. He slipped out of her and for a fraction of a second his motions stilled completely as if he’d realized what he was doing – or like he’d thought she was stopping it. But she turned quickly and clashed her mouth against his once more, reigniting the heated motions and sliding her hands over his body. His delay and the possible reasons for it barely registered in her mind. Her body was in control right now and it only wanted one thing.

Hermione wove her fingers into his hair and dropped her hand between them, wrapping her fingers around his slick cock. Her heart fluttered when she touched it and he groaned deeply and jammed his tongue so far down her throat she thought she might choke. His arms wrapped around her tightly and his delicious scent clouded her mind. He was slick with her wetness, rock hard and throbbing – his skin was like velvet. She pumped her hand over him until his hands gripped her so tight it would bruise and then he pushed her down to the bed.

He followed her body, his hands never leaving her as she released her hold on his cock to wrap her arms around his shoulders. They moved so fluidly that her lips only left his for a second and she’d not even caught a glimpse of his face. He slid her up the bed, hovering above her, hands on either side of her head as he continued to assault her lips. His hard length pressed into her hip and she arched into him. She gripped his shoulders firmly and tugged him down hard so she could feel his skin against hers once more. The warmth made her shiver and added more fuel to her already raging fire, she was blinded by it, incapable of thinking – incapable of stopping. Her rage had morphed into pure lust and desire and she could not control it.

Fuck she wanted him.

She wanted him inside her again so fucking bad that it hurt.

She wanted him to fuck her.

She wanted him to consume her and spiral her into mindless pleasure.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled hard, spreading her legs for him and pushing down on his back. He moved between them, settling deep within her thighs and ground himself against her center – _the fucking tease_.

He knew what she wanted and now he was going to deny it?

Hermione was panting and keening beneath him, rolling her hips against him and urging him inside. Yet he continued to slide against her slick folds, rubbing hard on her clit as her hunger grew insatiable. Just when she could not take it anymore and when she was about ready to punch him again, he shifted – and her back arched in pleasure as he thrust into her hard, sliding easily back into her slick channel. Her mouth opened wide against his, her head tipped back, her fingers curled into his scalp and she clung to him as a deep groan poured from her lips.

This angle was even better. He swallowed her moan, his mouth moving against hers desperately and consuming every sound he elicited from her body. She clung to him, her nails slicing into the skin of his back. She heard him hiss against her lips, he was kissing her like he wanted to drown her. His hips collided with her ruthlessly, she pushed up into him and wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into him with each deep thrust. Her body trembled as the coil in her center tightened. Electricity was shooting across her body as the pressure grew and he fucked her hard into the mattress. Their hands gripping and scratching and sliding over one another like they were trying to claw their way through each other.

The dim light in her room cast shadows over them as they moved. His lips were on her neck as he trailed his tongue along her skin, and she moaned over his shoulder. She could see his porcelain skin above her, the way the muscles in his shoulders flexed as his hands moved over her body. She could see her hands sliding across his back, her nails biting into his skin hard as he continued to suck on her neck and mark her skin – she was dimly aware that it was Malfoy above her yet her mind was drowned by the sensations coursing through her body and she just didn’t fucking care. She shivered beneath him. She was lost to the feel of him, her mind was completely shut down.

His breathing became more labored, his hand slid under her body to the base of her neck and his fingers gripped her tightly. His head dropped to the pillow beside hers and his hips shifted – he grabbed her hip, lifting her up a fraction and pushing into her hard. Her eyes rolled and incoherent vulgar poured from her mouth. Each thrust now ground against her clit and struck her g-spot like a piston. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t do anything – her body began to tremble uncontrollably as she pushed up into him, desperately seeking relief for the tension that was building in her body. She couldn’t handle it, she couldn’t take it, it was too much – she felt like she was going to burst.

He thrust into her hard with a loud groan and she almost screamed as she came. Her vision blurred, her body tensed, she clung to him as she cried out in a deep moan of bliss. She could feel the pressure within her as he came, filling her to the brim as his hips jerked sporadically. His familiar deep groan vibrated in her ear and sent shockwaves of pleasure down her spine. She felt like she was on fire, his slick sweaty body was pressed so far into hers that she wasn’t sure where she ended and where he began. She kept her shaking arms wrapped tightly around him. His forehead remained buried deep into the pillow beside hers as his breath danced across her shoulder. She panted; her eyes too hazy to make anything out as the electricity continued to race through her nerves.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, gasping for air and shaking in his arms as he remained embedded within her, shuddering for air and breathing hard against her. Eventually she swallowed hard and felt her eyes drift open once more, the haze finally clearing from her vision. She could see blonde hair – _again_. His blonde hair.

She tensed, her whole body becoming instantly rigid in his grasp.

Hermione's eyes shot wide as a ball of panic grew in her chest. She was consumed with dread as the realization of what she’d done finally settled clearly in her mind. Not only had she just fucked Malfoy – _AGAIN_ – she’d fucked him in _her_ bed!

She'd fucking brought him home to her flat and fucked him. And this time it had been different – it had started as aggressive and uncomfortable angry hate sex at the foot of her bed. But then she’d gone and been a fucking _genius_ and voluntarily touched him. She’d voluntarily turned around because she’d _wanted_ to touch him – to kiss him – bite him – to feel more of him and it had morphed into something else entirely. What happened was still aggressive and intense in nature – but she could hardly call it _hate_ sex. It was like it had been really good and passionate fucking – _incredibly good_ _fucking_ _._

But it wasn't _hate_ sex.

The way he’d held her close when they came, the way he’d purposely angled himself different and lifted her hips to give her more pleasure – she couldn’t understand it. She couldn’t ignore the significance of what had just happened. She could feel herself emotionally shutting down. Her occlumency walls were snapping closed around her and blocking out the twist of emotions that had started to form within her.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t deal with this.

In one swift motion she shoved Malfoy away from her, she could feel him slide out of her as she pushed him and made to roll off the bed.

Even though it was _her_ flat, even though she was completely naked, and even though she had nowhere else to go she needed to leave. She wanted to run away. She _had_ to run away.

A strong hand grabbed her, it curled tightly around her arm and it jerked her forcefully back onto the bed. She yelped in surprise as she hit the soft surface and felt Malfoy's arms snake around her. He'd pulled her flush against his naked chest; she could feel his sweat against her back as she struggled to get away only for him to hold her tighter still. His left hand wrapped around her waist and pinned her arms while his right hand slid underneath her, threaded up her chest and grabbed her throat once more. He wasn't trying to choke her; his hold wasn't tight enough – though after how he’d gripped her earlier, she wouldn’t put that past him. Right now though, he was just trying to keep her still as he lowered his lips to her ear.

"Not this time Granger," he practically hissed, and she clawed at his hands and fought to get away. "You're not running away _again_ – calm down."

"I am calm!" she yelled at him as she struggled once more, trying to arch her back away from him as she kicked her legs.

"Like _fucking_ hell you are," he grunted against her movements and threaded his legs around hers to stop her kicking completely. She could feel every inch of his naked body along hers and his semi hard cock was pressing into her backside as he held her tightly. He let her continue to thrash about for several moments longer until her motions finally stilled, and she laid panting in his arms. "Are you done?"

Hermione didn't say anything. She just glared daggers at the wall across from her, knowing that he could see the blush on her face and feel the rage pouring off of her in waves. Her panic had turned to anger the second he’d prevented her from leaving and now she was livid and terrified and desperate to close herself off and get away.

"I can _feel_ your occlumency you know, fucking Merlin – could you make it any _thicker_?"

"You're trying to get in my head?!" she tried to twist to see his face, but she couldn't. His hold on her was far too tight and his hand on her neck kept her head plastered firmly against his chest. She could feel his eyes on her though, and warm breath puffing from his lips against her cheek. 

"Only since you let me fuck you at work and then acted like _nothing_ fucking happened – believe it or not Granger I have absolutely _no_ desire to be in _your_ head. I can only imagine what a fucking nightmare it is in there–"

"Then what the _fuck_ do you want from me Malfoy?!" she cut him off angrily. She really wished she could turn around and deck him in the face, but his hold was unyielding. She could hex him without her wand – but she didn’t, it would be too messy, and she might accidentally kill him for real.

"I want to know why?"

"Why what?"

"Don't play stupid Granger – you know _exactly_ what"

Hermione said nothing, her breath came in small pants from her earlier struggle, but she laid pressed firmly against Malfoy's chest in silence. Her mind kept circling back to the feel of him against her body – _every_ detail pressed along her skin. For a moment she thought about waiting him out and evading the question forever, but from his tight hold and still body she realized that he was not going anywhere. He would wait her out in her own fucking bedroom. It was like she could feel the energy draining from her body as she lay squished tightly against him. She was tired of fighting him.

"I don't know," she finally said. The words were quiet, and she hated that they sounded so small. She kept her eyes fixed on the small crack in the wall beside her dresser. She’d thought about fixing it but never bothered.

She waited for him to say something back, for him to call her stupid or berate her lack of explanation but he didn't. He just continued to hold her firmly. She could feel that he was still staring at her, his eyes were moving over her face and then she felt a gentle flutter against her mind like she had in the boardroom the day before – though now she understood that it was him. He’d tried to see inside her head on Friday. He’d wanted to know what she was thinking because she’d been acting normally. He didn’t try to force his way inside though; he was just testing it – seeing if it was open.

It wasn’t. It never was. Her mind was always firmly locked down with her occlumency.

"Why did you?" she asked after the silence had remained heavy in the air for another long moment. She couldn’t stand it. It felt too calm, too abnormal – they’d never been in the same room for this long without yelling let alone been pressed up against one another without either fucking or trying to kill each other. It made her nervous.

"I don't know," he answered after a long pause. She had been starting to think that he might not give a response at all and her eyes widened at the tone of his voice. It was still raspy and thick from their earlier _activities_ , but she didn't hear a single hint of hatred. He sounded unsure. Almost hesitant.

"Do you regret it?" the words fell from her lips as a quiet whisper and she felt herself grow tense once more.

This was exactly what she did not want to know but yet she hadn’t been able to stop herself from asking the question. She already got enough crap from him at work. He already made her feel like an utter failure – she did not need to hear his disgust regarding their sex, she didn’t want to hear him say how terrible it was. Yet she’d asked anyways. It had been barely loud enough to hear because she was afraid if she spoke any louder it might break this bizarre calm that had settled between them.

"No," his voice was even, and contained no hint of the disgust she had been fearing. She felt some of the tension in her body release as his next words rumbled near her ear. "Do you?"

She hesitated. She’d felt tension form in his arms around her body when he’d asked. The question swirled within her and threatened to break her occlumency walls. Then surprisingly, she answered honestly.

“No,” she whispered.

Perhaps it was the eerie calm that surrounded them that prompted her to be truthful. Like the calm after a storm. It would have been _so_ easy to hurt him in this moment – to unleash the rage that constantly burned within her and shatter him to pieces. Yet she didn’t, and she didn’t know why. But something stopped her.

She felt like she was in a daze, like she'd slipped into an alternate universe, one where she could lay next to Malfoy and actually have a _conversation_ without screaming or trying to kill one another. It was surreal and it made her feel unsteady and unsure about everything she thought she knew was certain in life.

How could she be laying naked in Malfoy’s arms, against his naked body while his voice rumbled next to her ear without wanting to slaughter him? She was still immensely angry, confused and incredibly unsure – yet she didn’t exactly want him dead. Which was a new feeling.

"Do you hate me?" the words came from her so quietly that she wasn’t even sure she’d said them. Though Malfoy’s fingers on her neck twitched and confirmed that he’d heard it. She felt like her eyes were boring a hole into the wall now and she laid perfectly still, afraid to move or breath.

Malfoy paused for a long moment before speaking in a low, slow voice. "I think so – I don't know, you just constantly drive me crazy. And you make me incredibly angry."

Hermione swallowed and felt her lip twitch. She almost wanted to smile; she knew exactly how he felt.

"Do you hate me?" he finally asked.

She'd been wondering if he'd want to know – if he’d dare to ask. Apparently, he was bolder than she thought he was, for she was certain that not only did he not care what her response to that question was, she’d figured that he wouldn’t have the guts to ask it. She was clearly wrong.

Again.

"Sometimes," Hermione said slowly, licking her lips before she continued in her low eerily calm voice. "I don't know – you drive me insane, you're difficult and the most impossible person I know. It's like you know exactly how to push my buttons to get me to react – like you have some sort of manual for it."

Hermione felt a puff of air against her ear and she thought he might have held in a laugh. It made her stomach do something strange and she swallowed hard against the hand that was still gripping her neck firmly and holding her head to his chest. They both laid there quietly for another long moment and Hermione realized that their breathing had finally regulated.

"What are you thinking – about this?" she asked, the unsteadiness in her voice apparent.

For the first time since he’d pulled her into this position, she was glad that she could not turn to see his face. As much as she was disadvantaged by laying in his arms with him able to monitor her every reaction, yet unable to see his – she was glad. She was too terrified to look. Too terrified to know. It was easier to keep her anger at bay when she wasn’t looking at his face. It was easier to talk like a normal human being when his voice was somewhere off to her left and detached from his body. She knew if she turned to see him now her anger would flare up on instinct and undo the calm quiet they had somehow managed to create.

"I'm thinking I'm confused," he said quietly, almost like he was tired. She felt him sigh behind her even though he didn't make a sound. He paused for another moment and his hand on her neck twitched, then he spoke again in his low even tone. "If I let you go – are you going to run away again, or can we talk about this like adults?"

"You mean you can behave like one?" Hermione replied sarcastically though for the first time ever in her history of talking to Malfoy she didn’t mean any harm. The words had come out reflexively because she genuinely found it amusing. She felt his whole body tense behind her in response as his arms tightened. She let out a snort and rolled her eyes, knowing full well that he could see her do it. "That was a _joke_ Malfoy – I won't run away again. I promise."

Malfoy seemed to contemplate her answer before she felt his hand on her neck open and his arms around her loosen so that she could roll onto her left side to face him. She felt her heart skip as she saw him.

 _He’s fucking beautiful_ , the thought startled her but it was difficult to deny it.

His hair was a mess, his lips slightly swollen, his porcelain skin was still flushed and the muscles across his chest were visible in the dim light. She could see the faint tracing of silver scars across his skin, old wounds from school and the war that would never fully heal. She dared not lower her eyes any further south than that and she felt herself swallow before she traced her eyes back up his frame to meet his gaze. Taking slow deep breaths to maintain her calm.

His gaze was intense, yet strangely – it seemed to harbor no hatred or anger. He was just looking at her curiously – like he was trying to piece together a puzzle or collect as much information as possible. It made her chest tighten to see an emotion other than hatred and disgust on his face and it helped to keep her natural instinct to rage at him at bay. 

"Why are you occluding so heavily?" he asked her, his blue-grey eyes were locked onto hers. Taking in every minute reaction on her face.

"I always occlude,” she kept her voice even as she responded.

"I know that,” he said evenly though his jaw was now tight. It clearly took him effort to remain calm and in control at her non answer. Normally he would have reacted to something like that. “But why did you fully shut down; you've completely voided yourself of any capacity to process your emotions – you’ve done it every time after something happened."

It went without saying that the ‘ _something’_ he was referring to was snogging and fucking.

"Habit," she said quickly, not wanting to discuss it. She saw his eyes narrow and felt his fingers flex on her back. Clearly it wasn't a satisfactory response. She bit down the urge she had to yell at him or tell him to fuck off. Anger was always easier, but he had said he wanted to talk like adults so fine – even though she knew the truth would only complicate things between them further, she’d tell him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before meeting his gaze once more. "I started doing it after I was tortured because I had a hard time dealing with what had happened. Life doesn't stop to give you a break just because bad things happen. I needed to be functional and occluding my emotions was the best solution I had at the time – we were alone, and it wasn’t like there was anyone there to help us deal with it. I meant to stop doing it and process everything after the war ended but – well, old habits die hard I guess."

Malfoy had gone perfectly still at her words.

"You mean when you were tortured at _my_ house?"

"I don't think that ‘ _house’_ is the appropriate term for the _mansion_ that your family owns – but yes, that's the time that started it," Hermione deadpanned.

“Occlumency and disassociated sarcasm – so that’s how you deal with life now,” Malfoy's eyes had narrowed at her sarcastic comment and she could see him fighting down his anger. "There were other times?"

Irritation was radiating through her body, but Hermione felt herself shrug automatically in indifference. The response left her lips before she could even think it over and the words were laced with disdain. "I'm not sure the others _count_ in comparison."

Inside her head she was seething. The asshole was fucking right and they both knew it. She hated that he so easily picked up on her total lack of ability to deal with anything properly – aside from being angry. It was largely why any of her last attempts at a relationship had failed. She was good at hiding it – he was the only one to call her out on it and it made an uneasy feeling start to settle over her chest.

 _I am so fucking detached_.

She couldn’t pull her eyes away from him as she half stared half glared at him in defiance. She could feel her agitation growing as she saw his jaw clench. He looked like he wanted to say something but was struggling to do it – maybe he was trying to prevent himself from screaming, she wasn’t sure.

Just then she felt her wards go off.

"Hermione?!" 

Harry's voice rang out through her flat. She wandlessly cast an additional silencing charm across her bedroom and groaned.

" _Fuck_!"

" _Potter_ has access to your flat?" Malfoy had suddenly found his voice and he was scowling at her.

"Of course Harry has access!" Hermione hissed at him as she detangled herself from Malfoy and crawled off the bed. She tried not to think about the fact that she was stark naked as she darted across the room to get her old thinly worn housecoat. The room was freezing from the late-night autumn air and she shivered.

"Don't you think it’s _inappropriate_ for a guy to have access to come and go as he pleases?" Malfoy sounded irritated and oddly displeased.

"It’s _Harry_ , Malfoy, and he's married. _Both_ he and Ginny have access."

"That hardly makes it any better," Malfoy sneered. "Does weasel have access too then?"

"Ron?! _Fuck_ no, of course not!" Hermione glared at him before she tossed her hair in a rapid bun and vanished Malfoy’s mess from her body – not stopping to think about the fact that he’d come inside her twice in the last three days and she would need to once again take that disgusting potion. She heard Harry call out her name again. "Only Harry and Ginny do – and _why_ do you even care so much?"

"I don't," he spat as he sat up on her bed and leaned against the headboard. "Wait you’re seriously going out there to see him?"

Hermione's hand was on the doorknob, she’d just finished casting a cleaning charm and a heavy glamour over her body to hide any marks that Malfoy may have made. "Of course I am! I'm going to get him to _leave._ If I don't go _out_ there, he'll come _in_ here looking for me."

"He'll come _into_ your room?! What the fuck Granger, do you guys have no boundaries? Explains a lot actually since you–"

"Why the _fuck_ do you care?!” Hermione cut him off with an agitated sigh. She knew he was going to reference her poor manners at work, and she didn’t want to hear about how she busted into his office unannounced all the time. “And fuck Malfoy it's not like that! He's like my brother."

" _Again_ , that just makes it worse."

"Fuck – look, just be quiet and _stay_ here and I'll get him to leave okay?"

Malfoy shrugged. "If you're that worried about it."

Hermione's hand paused once more, and her eyes widened as she jerked her head in disbelief. "If _I'm_ that – are _you_ saying that you don't care if he barges in and sees you here?"

"Why would I?" his nose crinkled indignantly. “The better question is _why_ would you? You’re a fucking adult Granger – you can do what you want."

"I _care_ because **_I_** don't even understand what the _fuck_ this is!” Hermione gestured wildly between them as her face contorted in confusion. “Why the _fuck_ would I want to discuss it with _Harry?_!"

What the fuck was going on? Was Malfoy truly not ashamed of sleeping with her? Did he actually not care if people knew or was he just being a prat and trying to make her feel like an immature idiot?

Harry's voice sounded at the end of her hallway and she could hear his footsteps against the hardwoods. She was out of time – in fact she wasn’t sure what had taken him this long as it was.

" _Fuck_! Just stay here," Hermione checked to make sure her housecoat was closed and exited into the hallway. Closing the door shut tight behind her. “Hey, Harry sorry I was just reading in bed.”

“I figured as much,” Harry smiled as he approached her in the dim hallway. Hermione couldn’t help but want to roll her own eyes at that.

Of course he would believe her – why wouldn’t he? She was incredibly predictable and reading in bed was something that she always did. Often she wouldn’t hear him or Ginny until they were practically at her bed because she’d been so absorbed in her reading. Perhaps she needed to branch out and find a new hobby – the sarcastic thought: ‘ _like_ _fucking_ _Malfoy’_ floated through her head and she coughed to fight down a blush.

“I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay – Ginny said that she saw you screaming at Malfoy by the bar,” Harry leaned casually on the wall just a few feet in front of her. His eyes were searching her face as his brows furrowed in concern. Despite his low soft voice Hermione knew that Malfoy would be able to hear every word of their exchange. “You’ve been working yourself to death Hermione – are you alright?”

“Yeah – I’m fine,” Hermione gave Harry a small smile and wrapped her arms around herself to fight the cold. She shivered again. “I’m sorry for leaving without saying goodbye I – I just really needed to get out of there. I think I’m just a bit tired from the week. Things have been a bit crazy lately.”

“Don’t worry about that – Angelina didn’t notice, she was too busy talking with Fleur about the baby,” Harry smiled. “Besides I know you were itching to get away from Ron – he really lays it on thick, doesn’t he?”

“Fuck, it’s so annoying – I think it drives his wife crazy,” Hermione groaned as she shook her head.

“It does,” Harry snorted, and his smile widened. “She complained to Ginny about it for over half an hour tonight, which means that I get to hear about it at home for two hours. Did you eat anything at the party?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You know despite what you and Ginny think I _am_ capable of feeding myself.”

“Mhmm,” Harry hummed as he arched his brow. “Well Ginny sent me with some leftovers anyway – she’s still helping clean up after the human sparkler and Neville accidentally set off a firework inside – so I put the food in your fridge. Which, by the way, as someone who can _allegedly_ feed themselves you sure stock a whole lot of _nothing_ in there – Merlin, Hermione you don’t even have like – butter or a bottle of ketchup in there.”

“Ughh,” Hermione closed her eyes and pinched her brow. Him placing food in the fridge answered her question about why it took so long for him to come down the hallway but his comment was no less annoying. “Yes, I’m aware Harry – I didn’t have time to go get groceries this week, but I was planning to go tomorrow morning.”

She hadn’t checked the time, she didn’t know how long she and Malfoy had fucked or how long they had been talking. She wasn’t sure if it was already after midnight or not.

“Good,” Harry nodded his approval and then paused. He stared at her strangely and then took a small step forward. “Hermione – you know that if there is anything you ever need to talk about you can tell me, and I won’t tell Ginny. I know you two are close and don’t get me wrong – I love my wife. But she can be – well I know that sometimes her version of helping isn’t always helpful. You know that I’m always here for you if you need me.”

Hermione felt her heart knot in her chest as she stared up at her best friend, her brother, her only remaining family member after she’d been unable to restore her parent’s memories. She swallowed hard.

She could feel her eyes start to prickle as she nodded her head silently and her rock solid occlumency walls finally started to lower. Her emotions were rushing back in and it hurt. She felt a familiar brush against her mind and miraculously – she didn’t explode. Instead she just allowed Malfoy to see her thoughts and feelings for Harry as she stepped forward into his arms and thudded her forehead against his chest, letting out a low deep breath as his arms circled around her.

Harry was her best friend. Her brother, her secret keeper, her partner through the challenges of life – the one and only person in the world that she fully trusted. She loved Ginny, truly, and she trusted Ginny. But Harry would always be the only person she could confide in. Their relationship had never been romantic. Ever. She’d simply never felt that way about him and he’d never felt that way about her – even thinking about the possibility of their relationship being like that left her feeling disgusted and gross.

Yet they shared a deep emotional connection. One that could only be formed after years of hardships and going to war together. She would have died for him then, she still would. He was like a piece of her, like a twin – like a male version of herself and he understood her in a way that no one else seemed to.

He’d grown up a lot since his school days and he’d become a spectacular listener. He was quieter, calmer, much more responsible and level-headed. She suspected it had a lot to do with the fact that he’d been through so much and had died and came back to life.

He and Ginny had made the perfect pair, she was fiery and hot headed, and he was calm and collected. The two of them together treated Hermione like an extension of their own family and constantly checked up on her and took care of her. She loved them both more than she could explain, they were her only family. Though Harry wasn’t wrong – sometimes Ginny’s over opinionated persona made her difficult to confide in. Whereas Harry would keep his thoughts to himself unless he deemed it appropriate to share them. She could feel his chin resting on the top of her head as he held her loosely. She knew that he knew she wasn’t okay. He knew something was off.

“Hermione,” she felt his voice rumble in his chest as he spoke. “Is this about Malfoy?”

Despite her best efforts she stiffened in his hold and felt a panic start to build in her chest.

 _Yes, it was about Malfoy_.

 _All_ of this was about Malfoy – from the second he had shown up as head of M-PaS _everything_ in her life had become _about_ Malfoy. He consumed all her energy; he took all of her time and he dominated her thoughts. Yet this was the single thing that Hermione felt she could not tell Harry – it was the _only_ thing that she couldn’t share with _anyone_. Harry would never understand, how could he? She herself had no idea what the fuck was going on between them.

“What’s going on between you two?” Harry asked, his voice still quiet and low.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully, still rigid in his gentle embrace.

“Are you two still fighting like cats and dogs?”

“Sort of,” she swallowed again and wished that she’d just sent Harry away. She didn’t want to have this conversation.

“Hermione,” Harry said slowly, his voice sounded hesitant as if he expected her to react poorly to his next words. “Malfoy is – well, he’s changed a lot since school. I know you two don’t get along and I’m not saying that you should be nice to him – he’s a dick to you almost constantly – but, maybe you two should just _talk_ sometime. Without the screaming and fists. You two have a lot more in common than you’d think, and maybe – if you started looking at him like a _person_ instead of as ‘ _Malfoy’_ you might actually be able to work with him.”

Hermione stepped back as Harry released her and watched the strange look that lingered on his face as he eyed her. She got the feeling he knew something she didn’t.

“You say that like you _know_ him,” Hermione laughed, her body shuddering now that the heat from Harry’s body had been removed. “Are you and Malfoy friends now or something?”

Harry snorted and looked amused. “We work together Hermione – but we do also get coffee every few weeks, so who knows. Maybe. I should head back though and make sure everything is okay – they might need help repairing the one wall. I’m sorry for just barging over, I just wanted to make sure you were fine.”

“I know,” Hermione smiled at him and nodded. “I am – I will be, I promise.”

“Make sure that you actually sleep this weekend okay? I know the Herbology Association is on your ass about that Dugbog proposal but it’s their own fault they’re in that mess. If you need them to back off tell them that you detected traces of hemlock near the Mandrakes – it’s illegal, but they do it all the time to try and protect the crops,” Harry spoke as he walked back towards her living room to apparate. “And just you know – try not to punch Malfoy again.”

“Alright,” Hermione grinned and waved as he turned around to face her once more and then apparated from her flat. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and locked the wards on her flat for the night. It wasn’t something she did often, but she did not want any more intrusions for the evening.

 _Now what_ , she thought as she turned her head to look at her bedroom door and chewed her bottom lip.

Was she supposed to walk back into her bedroom and pretend like Malfoy laying casually against her headboard was a normal sight? Was he still naked? Were they going to talk? Should she tell him to leave? Should _she_ leave? She was free from his grasp after all and could easily run away.

She let out a low quiet sigh and turned back to her room, opening the door and stepping inside to find Malfoy exactly where she’d left him. Though his expression had changed from one of annoyance to one of interest, he was eyeing her carefully.

(to be continued…)

-x-x-

I know not all of you will care about this, but I’m really pleased with myself so I’m sharing anyways. I just got to over 45k words on my first full length novel and I’ve officially published 6 short dirty romance reads! *wiggles in excitement*

Woot!

Thanks for reading :)


	8. The Otter and The Dragon Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – yet… somehow less angry?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

“You and Potter are – _close_ ,” Malfoy cocked his head to the side as she entered her room. “Is Weasley okay with your relationship?”

He was sitting propped against her headboard, her duvet across his waist though it appeared that he had not bothered to put on any clothes. His pale porcelain chest almost glowed in the low light from her nightstand lamp and his hair was still a mess.

Hermione scowled at him and crossed her arms over her chest, keenly aware that her nipples were hard from the cold. She’d walked a few feet closer, standing just a foot away from the end of the bed.

“It’s not like _that_ and you _know_ it – I could feel you poking at my mind the second my occlumency walls dropped and I _let_ you see my thoughts for him you prying prat! So don’t spew crap that you _know_ isn’t true! Besides, Ginny was the one who sent him over here, of course she is okay with it – he is my _best_ friend Malfoy!” she sneered at him, feeling her anger return full force. Whatever calm she’d felt after talking to Harry was disappearing quickly and her cold occlumency walls were returning to protect her neatly organized mind. She wasn’t sure why she’d even let Malfoy see any portion of her thoughts at all – what had she been thinking. “Why are you giving me a hard time about this – _why_ do you even care?”

“I don’t care,” he looked at her darkly, his face twisting into a familiar scowl. “I was just commenting that it’s weird.”

She could feel the shift in the dynamic between them. The strange calm was gone, and they were back to snide remarks, cruel words and harsh comments.

“Maybe for you – it’s not my fault that you have no concept of what friendship is,” she spat as she turned and opened her hand toward the bedroom door. She’d nearly forgotten about the contraceptive potion and she’d be damned if she got pregnant after fucking this asshole. “He and Ginny are the _only_ family I have left.”

Malfoy opened his mouth as if to yell at her, but his attention was quickly diverted to the potion that sailed into the bedroom and landed in Hermione’s outstretched hand.

“What is that?” his brow was arched, and his voice was laced with annoyance.

“It’s a contraceptive,” Hermione scowled at him, but she could feel a blush form on her face as she started to unscrew the lid. It was bad enough being forced to see and interact with him after they’d had sex, she did not want to discuss _protection_ with him.

“Oh,” he said slowly, some of the anger fading from his voice. “You don’t need to take that.”

“ _What_?!” Hermione’s eyes shot to his face and she stared at him in disbelief. Her words were sharp and angry as she spoke. “Are you _insane_?! You came _inside_ me Malfoy.”

“What?! No – no fuck, Granger, you don’t need to take it because you _can’t_ get pregnant.”

“Excuse me?!” Hermione stepped closer to the bed, holding the small potion bottle deathly tight in her hands as she glared daggers at him. “Are you saying that you think I am _incapable_ of bearing children?!”

“ _What_?! _No_! Fucking Merlin – you turn _everything_ into an attack!” Malfoy groaned, covering his face with his hands and letting out a long heavy sigh. “You are _fucking_ impossible – I’m saying that you _can’t_ get pregnant because _I’ve_ got that covered – there were _no_ little Malfoy swimmers in there.”

“Wha – but there is no male contraceptive,” Hermione’s face contorted in confusion and she felt her anger fade as she stared at him. Then her eyes widened as understanding dawned on her, she felt the tension in her shoulders drop as her voice softened. “ _Oh_ – I – I didn’t realize that you couldn’t have kids.”

“ _What_?!” Malfoy’s nose crinkled and his hands flew to either side of him. He scowled at her and looked like he might jump out of the bed to grab her in anger. “I am _perfectly_ capable of having kids Granger, thank you very much.”

 _What the actual fuck!_ she felt like she was having a brain aneurism.

Hermione gave him an exasperated look. “Then what the fuck are you talking about Malfoy?! How do you _know_ there weren’t any in there?!”

“There are no male contraceptives available over the counter,” Malfoy smirked at her, his voice condescending. “I come from a pureblood family Granger – with a long history of men being devious pigs, they solved that problem a _long_ time ago because the last thing they wanted was a bastard child showing up that fucks with the inheritance and bloodline – and you could never trust a witch to actually swallow the contraceptive potion.”

“Hn,” Hermione’s nose crinkled in disgust. “Such a _charming_ legacy.”

“I _never_ said I was proud of it,” Malfoy hissed as he leaned away from the headboard and brought his knees up before him. The duvet around his waist shifted and Hermione realized that he had actually slipped his boxers back on.

“So how does it work then?” she said stiffly, her eyes darting back to his face. She hated herself for looking and she knew that Malfoy had seen her eyes dart to his hips when he’d shifted. He was looking at her with a smug sort of pleased expression.

“It’s a charm, combined with blood magic and a bunch of other shit you don’t want to know about – long story short, so long as I have my ring on it works.”

Hermione eyed his hands, “You _don’t_ have a ring on.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Malfoy groaned and tapped his left pinky finger twice and a small silver band appeared. “It’s disillusioned – convenient as the charm is, in the wizarding world walking around with it visible is essentially advertisement that you’re down to fuck – and some witches get pretty pushy.”

“Oh,” Hermione said quietly as she eyed the ring. The potion was still clenched tightly in her hand and she’d begun to shiver again from the cold.

She felt conflicted. Drinking the potion would be the responsible thing to do – but it would also be a slap in the face to Malfoy and would immediately wedge a huge gap between them and put them at permanent odds like they’d been before. Not that their relationship was anything close to _normal_ or _okay_ right now, but it was the most obvious way to tell him that she absolutely did not trust him in the slightest. It would be a huge fuck you to his face.

If she’d been given the information and asked to make a decision on Thursday after they’d fucked in the empty office, before the weird calm conversation they’d had tonight, she would have downed the bottle with enthusiasm and rubbed it in his stupid face. Though now, oddly, she felt differently on the matter. She didn’t know what to think. She would be lying if she said that she _wanted_ to go back to screaming at him constantly. She disliked him sure, possibly even hated him – but she hated _fighting_ with him more.

It was exhausting and it made her life a living hell. She didn’t know what the fuck was happening between them right now, she felt like her world had been ripped out from under her feet in the last 48 hours – but Harry’s words echoed in the back of her head and she wondered what she would do if this _wasn’t_ Malfoy. Would she believe him? At one point she had wanted to wipe the slate clean and start over with him – hadn’t she?

She bit her lip as her mind ran through her options. It didn’t help that the potion tasted like shit and she hated taking it – it wasn’t difficult to _not want_ to drink it.

“If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to take that potion,” Malfoy tapped his finger and the ring disappeared once more. He leaned back against the headboard and arched a brow at her, as if challenging her. “I just thought I’d try to spare you the taste – I know some women get sick after drinking that version of the potion.”

Hermione stood still before him. He wasn’t wrong. A lot of witches threw up after drinking the potion and then had to take a second batch. It was really quite terrible. She suspected that Mrs. Weasley had a particularly difficult aversion to it and that was likely why they’d had so many children – the pre-sex contraceptive potion had not come onto the market until just over 20 years ago. If not for Hermione’s experience with some worse flavours – like Polyjuice – she doubted that she would be able to stomach it.

Malfoy stared at her, arms crossed over his chest, waiting to see what she did. A long quiet moment passed between them as Hermione’s eyes flicked between the potion and him. Then Hermione sighed, recapped the bottle and sent it flying back to the bathroom. Malfoy’s eyes widened and his expression softened but he said nothing.

“ _What_?” Hermione’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Nothing,” he sneered, but it looked forced and insincere. After a moment he added. “I didn’t think that you’d actually believe me.”

“Yeah well – if you’re lying and I get pregnant I’m not keeping it,” Hermione muttered as she averted her eyes and stared at her bare toes. She was cold. Her thin, short, housecoat did little to ward against the cool fall temperatures and her body was full on shivering now. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, determined not to look at Malfoy as he laid comfortably in her bed, it was too weird – standing here talking to him calmly in her room about birth control like this was a _normal_ Saturday night. “Besides, that stuff tastes like shit.”

Malfoy snorted and then she heard him move on the bed. She glanced up from the floor to see that he’d quickly moved to the foot of the bed and he was reaching for her arm.

“Wait, what are you–?”

“You’re obviously freezing,” Malfoy cut her off as he grabbed her and pulled her onto the bed.

She tried to tug away from him but her efforts were less than sincere, his hands were so incredibly warm they made her skin prickle and she found herself easily dragged up the length of the bed. He leaned against the headboard once more and pulled her against his warm chest, tossing the duvet over them before he wound his arms securely around her waist.

She felt like her brain was short circuiting, his actions didn’t make any sense.

“What are you thinking?” her voice sounded nervous as she felt him pull her tighter to his chest.

“I’m _not_ thinking,” his deep voice echoed by her ear and sent a shudder through her body. “You should try it sometime.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she didn’t say anything.

She sat there stiffly in his arms for a long while until finally she felt her shoulders start to relax, though her mind continued to race. The heat from his body was seeping into her skin through her thin housecoat and his scent surrounded her once more. She swallowed nervously, completely unsure of what to make of their sitting arrangement. It was like Malfoy was choosing to just do what he felt like without thinking about why. He seemed comfortable enough touching her – he obviously did not find her disgusting or revolting. Which was strange. She’d always assumed that he only ever touched her out of anger or hate or maybe even lust – yet here he was clutching her tightly to his chest _voluntarily_ because she’d been _cold._

Her knees were drawn up close to her body like his and her bare thighs rested gently against his under the duvet as she sat between his legs. She could feel every detail of his body against her back. She moved slightly each time he breathed, and she found the motion almost comforting. It was confusing. She didn’t know what to think or what she was supposed to do. She felt like her thoughts were spiraling out of control.

She felt tired.

Exhausted.

The week had been long. She felt like she was back in the war and was fighting to stay sane while charging ahead in an uphill battle. She could feel it in her bones, the heaviness that surrounded her and weighed on her heart like a rock.

She was worn, stretched too thin and as Malfoy had so pointedly pointed out – incapable of processing her emotions and living in a permanently occluded mind with thick occlumency walls. Even now she was fighting against her emotions, blocking them back like she was patching a leaking dam. It was so tiering. She felt her shoulders slump as her body started to grow limp in his arms.

The weariness was setting in and she found it difficult to fight as her eyes started to droop. She didn’t want to fall asleep in his arms – okay she did because it was warm, but she wasn’t sure it was a good idea. Her angry side screamed internally, telling her to push him away – to push everything away – all of it, like she always did.

Yet her fatigue was winning, and she felt her eyes drift closed as she was surrounded by warmth and darkness.

-x-x-

The late morning light woke her, it poured through her open curtains and stretched across her bed. The lamp on her nightstand was still dimly lit and she blinked, trying to remember why she hadn’t turned it off – and why the hell her body felt so sore. Her mind was foggy and her senses had yet to wake up – but she felt so incredibly warm and well rested. She yawned and made to stretch but she found that her arms were stuck to her sides. Confusion fluttered in her mind as she blinked her bleary eyes once more and looked down.

She froze.

Two porcelain pale arms were wrapped tightly around her. Then everything flooded back – the party, Malfoy, fucking Malfoy for a second time in her bed (hence the soreness), Harry, their conversation, and then him holding her to his chest because she was cold. _Because he’d wanted to._ She must have fallen asleep in his arms and he must have rolled them to the side onto the bed. She felt her pulse began to quicken as her mind jumpstarted into panic.

_What the fuck was I thinking?! Why did I do that?!_

Her thoughts were racing and her body grew more tense. She licked her lips nervously. She could feel his body pressed tightly to hers, his hold had not lessened through the night and his face was buried at the base of her neck amongst the tangles of hair that sprouted from her head at odd angles. How had he not suffocated? What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

Hate fucking Malfoy was one thing, but regular fucking him and falling asleep in his arms was another. It was so categorically different that she didn’t know what to make of it. A blush crept over her face and she didn’t know if she could ever look at him again. It hadn’t been that difficult to occlude and look past the hate sex – but she had no fucking idea how to deal with _this._

She couldn’t ignore it. She swallowed tightly and carefully tried to unweave her body from his grasp, sliding her legs away from his and working her arm out.

“Don’t.”

She froze. He hadn’t moved but his gruff morning voice echoed behind her neck and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. He was awake – and yet he was still actively choosing to hold her. She shifted again and his arms tightened around her.

“I have to go to the washroom,” she lied, desperate to get away.

“No you don’t,” the gruff monotonous reply came from behind her once more.

Irritation flooded through her body and she twisted herself around in his hold. “How the fuck would you _know_?!”

“Because your heart is racing like a rabbit’s and you’re fucking predictable as hell Granger!” Malfoy spat, his eyes opening to glare at her. “You know some people prefer _quiet_ in the mornings.”

Her eyes widened at his appearance. Malfoy looked so incredibly un-Malfoy. His hair was almost as disastrous as hers was and it stuck out at odd angles. Despite the agitation in his eyes the rest of his face looked serene and calm, not a single hint of anger anywhere. He looked like a fucking painting – he was too perfect.

“ _Why_ are you still here?” the words came from her mouth harsher than she’d meant them too and she almost slapped herself when she felt him stiffen like a board and his face grew dark. She hadn’t meant it like that, but it was how it sounded.

“Because your wards are _thorough_ ,” his voice was low and spiteful. He detangled himself from her and sat up, moving off the bed and summoning his clothes without so much as waving his finger. “It would have been _impossible_ to leave even if I wanted to. _Clearly_ – you didn’t think of that before you passed the fuck out – so remove them and–“

“No,” she cut him off as she quickly sat up, clutching the thin housecoat she was still wearing closed more tightly.

“ _No?_ ” his face twisted in confusion. He’d already put his pants back on, his shirt hung off his shoulders unbuttoned, and he was looking at her lividly. “You _just_ told me to leave – what do you–“

“No! I mean – ugh _fuck!_ That’s _not_ what I meant! I’m sorry,” she dropped her feet to the freezing floor and thudded her forehead against the palms of her hands before taking a deep breath and forcing herself to look at him again.

She felt herself swallow as she stared up at him, he was _impossible_ – looking at him made her angry like usual but now it also stirred things in her core. His body was impeccable, she hadn’t really _seen_ him the night before but now as he stood before her half-naked, she could not even deny the fact that she found him attractive. She could see his abs, his dark suit pants hung low on his hips and his open collared shirt only made her want to rip his clothes back off and tug him down to the bed.

She couldn’t tell if she wanted to fuck him, punch him or punch herself for being incapable of not sounding like a bitch when she spoke to him. Why was this so hard? Why had she let herself become so incapable of regulating her emotions and why did he react to her so easily? Why were they so fucking volatile?

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said slowly, forcing her voice to remain level and calm. She balled her hands into fists to help herself concentrate. “When I asked _why_ you were still here – I just – fuck, it’s _so_ easy to slip back into just being fucking angry and then everything comes out wrong. I was just _surprised_ that you’d stayed, I guess I thought you would have snuck out – I wasn’t telling you to _leave_ – I’d forgotten about the wards.”

He still looked angry, but he had stopped putting on his clothes. He remained still as he stood before her, eyeing her tight expression.

“In case you’ve forgotten,” he said in a low whisper. “ _I’m_ not the one who tried to run away after the last two times we fucked.”

Her jaw clenched and she glared at him. Her hands knotted into the duvet and she felt anger welling up inside of her as he stared at her hotly. She’d tried to be nice, she’d tried to explain her poor reaction and yet he was still being a fucking dick. She could hear a small voice in the deep dark recesses of her mind telling her to drop it and let it go but it was hardly a whisper compared to the anger that was flaring in her chest. She felt like an emotional wreck – her occlumency walls had already failed after she woke up next to him and now she could feel all her neat little cubes of packed away memories and emotions threatening to break apart. It was how she grouped and kept track of everything in her mind, it was how she blocked it all out - and it was failing.

She was a fucking disaster.

“Right,” she said tightly, feeling a sickening knot begin to twist in her stomach. She forced herself to stand and readjusted her wards in her head. She was done, she wanted to be alone. She didn’t need his shit – strange attraction or not, fucking him had been a mistake. They were too volatile to coexist; she was too damaged and she did better alone. “Because I’m a fucking disaster that can’t process any emotions – _thank you_ for the reminder of my failures! Like I didn’t already _fucking_ know that!! I adjusted the wards for you Malfoy – feel free to leave whenever the _fuck_ you want!”

She made to push past him, wanting to go take a long shower and scrub herself clean of his scent. She would lock herself in there until he left and then they would go back to hating each other and nearly killing each other at work. It was easier than whatever this was.

He glared at her as she stepped around him, she made it two feet from the door before she felt his hand on her arm and she found herself crushed against his body. His lips were on hers like fire, his hands moving across her body as she gasped for air and fought against his arms. Her back collided with the door and she grunted out against him, gripping his shirt tightly in her hands as she bit his lip so hard she tasted blood. He hissed into her mouth, but he didn’t stop.

Her hand trailed down his chest and she twisted the fingers of her other hand into his hair. She could feel her fingers tugging instinctively at his pants, undoing the button and zipper – she didn’t know why she did it but she couldn’t stop herself as the heated urgency grew within her. She felt him push aside her thin housecoat and then he pushed his hard length inside her. It was tight, it stretched her sore and swollen channel and it made her back arch against him. She groaned as he fucked her, her head thumping against the door each time he thrust into her and she bit his neck hard as her nails dug into his back.

She hated him.

She hated him so much it hurt.

She hated him so much she couldn’t breathe.

But more than anything else she hated herself.

Her breath came in gasps as his movements grew rougher and his hand threaded up her neck to clutch her jaw – forcing her lips to his. She felt like she was drowning under him and she felt like her heart was breaking. Even as her lips moved against his and she moaned into his mouth she knew she couldn’t do this. She didn’t know what he wanted – she didn’t know what she wanted, she didn’t understand why this kept happening. Why couldn’t they keep their hands away from one another when all they did was hurt each other.

She felt the coil in her center spring loose as her neatly organized occlumency cubes broke and a sob left her body. She shook, her legs trembling hard as she heard him groan as he came inside her once more. She was going to hyperventilate. She could hear her breaths growing tighter and quicker as her fingers gripped his shirt tightly. Everything was rushing in and her head was swimming as years of neglected emotions flooded her. He lowered her leg, she felt herself go weak against the door as she clutched at the front of her housecoat and tried to remember how to breath.

 _In – out – it’s in out right? – out – out – no in,_ her mind was panicking and she felt light headed.

“Granger?”

It was Malfoy, his voice sounded rough but he didn’t sound angry. She looked up and saw him swimming before her eyes – she couldn’t comprehend his expression, he almost looked concerned. She knew her eyes were shinning with tears that were threatening to spill as years’ worth of buried emotions consumed her.

“I – need to – be alone,” she rasped out been gasps as she twisted the door handle behind her and stumbled out into the hall. She tore into the bathroom blindly, wrenched the door open and tried to fling it shut behind her – she heard it slam into something hard that wasn’t the doorframe. She dropped both hands on either side of the sink and clenched her eyes shut as her breath came in ragged uneven pants. Her whole body trembled as she braced herself against the sink and her mind was flooded with a tidal wave of emotion. She felt like she was going to throw up or pass out – maybe both, she couldn’t process it, she couldn’t control it, she couldn’t handle it, it was all too much. This was why she blocked it out.

She felt a warm hand in the center of her back and her body shuddered as a ragged gasping sob came from her lungs. Her eyes shot wide as a second wave of panic hit her.

“Breathe.”

She was trying to – but she just couldn’t seem to get it right and her vision started to speckle with tiny black dots as her legs waivered.

“Granger breathe! In – out – deep breath in – out –”

Malfoy’s deep voice was sounding to her right and she felt his thumb brushing against her spine in rhythm with his words. She focused on it, staring at the cold water tap of her sink and not allowing herself to think. He didn’t stop, he stayed with her until she was breathing normally, his hand resting on her back as her arms trembled against the sink. She felt him step closer when she’d managed to breathe steadily for a solid three minutes, she could feel the heat radiating off his body against her side. She felt his arm slip around her waist and she let him guide her out of the bathroom to her kitchen.

She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t want to think about anything – her only focus was restoring her neat little occlumency cubes, reassembling and organizing her mind. She didn’t think about the fact that she could feel his seed dripping down the inside of her leg as she moved – and she didn’t allow herself to think about how the feeling suddenly vanished.

She sat on the stool in her kitchen that Malfoy had put her on, her eyes glued to the bar top counter as she continued to sort her memories and file everything away. Deep breath in, deep breath out. She could hear her kettle and she could hear him moving around behind her, but she didn’t pay it any mind until she saw a cup of tea appear before her and she felt him lean against the counter at her side.

She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking to her right as her body grew tense. She’d finished repairing the damage and had reorganized everything into their tight little boxes – but now she just felt uncomfortable. She could see Malfoy from the corner of her gaze, his shirt was still unbuttoned and it hung off his shoulders loosely. His lip was split and there was a trickle of dried blood across it from where she’d bitten him. Yet he was leaning against her bar top in an incredibly natural way, as if he was comfortable there, and he was looking at her with an odd and calm expression.

“Is this the first time that your occlumency walls _and_ compartmentalization has failed?” his tone was gentle, rumbling deeply from his chest.

“Yes,” she said tightly. Quickly bringing her eyes back to the tea he’d made her.

“Did everything go?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, slowly moving her hands to cup the warm mug before her.

Silence rang out as she gripped the mug tightly and felt her shoulders stiffen. She took a sip of the hot tea, It wasn’t bad but she would have added some milk to it – and she tried to ignore the awkwardness that had settled across the room. She’d just lost her shit – lost in a wave of abandoned and buried emotions and memories, and she’d done it in front of Malfoy. And he’d stayed.

She didn’t know how to process that one.

“Yesterday,” he said slowly, his eyes watching her carefully. “When I said you’d become completely void of processing your emotions – I wasn’t trying to be an ass. This is what happens if you shut everything out and you don’t deal with your trauma.”

She nodded, feeling her jaw tighten as she continued to stare at her mug.

“Granger – you understand that doing this for too long can result in a fractured mind, right?” his voice had grown tighter. “You understand that you _need_ to deal with this before you do permanent damage?”

Hermione turned and glared at him, she couldn’t help herself. She felt insecure, embarrassed and angry with herself for what had happened.

“I’ve been perfectly _fine_ for years.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed and she could see the anger returning to his face. “Don’t be an idiot – I _know_ you read up on _everything_. So do you not care? Or do you just think you’re somehow smarter and better than everyone else who has spent years researching this topic?”

“I don’t think I’m _better_ than anyone,” Hermione felt her back stiffen and she tightened her hold on her mug.

“So you just don’t care then,” he said snidely his face turning into a scowl.

“I _still_ have _time_ to figure it out, this is the first time that something like this has happened.”

“You have _less_ time than you think,” Malfoy said angrily, crowding her space as he stepped towards her. “This shit escalates quickly Granger.”

“Right,” she said bitterly, her voice turning sarcastic in self-defense. “And you know _all_ about that from the _extensive_ research that _you’ve_ done on the topic.”

Malfoy went stiff beside her and his eyes darkened with anger.

“I _know_ about it because I did the exact same _fucking_ thing during the war!” his face had twisted into a snarl as he pushed away from the counter and she saw the remainder of his clothes come flying from her bedroom into his hand. “How the _fuck_ else do you think I survived in a house with that monster!”

“What?” Hermione felt her heart stutter in her chest as she turned on her stool and watched him walk to the center of her living room. “Malfoy I – you – I didn’t know –“

“Of course you didn’t,” his voice was cold as he turned around to face her. “Drink your tea Granger – and you’re out of milk by the way.”

He apparated away, the pop ringing loud throughout her flat as she stared after the empty space.

She felt like an asshole. She hadn’t considered how he’d dealt with having Voldemort in his house for over a year or that he might be able to understand what she was going through. Now he was angry with her – again.

Was he angry because she’d never asked? Was he angry because she didn’t seem to care about her own health? She didn’t understand him – he’d purposely taunted her in her bedroom, pissed her off and then angrily fucked her. Yet he’d stayed when her mind had collapsed and made sure she was okay – did he actually care about her wellbeing?

Her eyes dropped back to the mug before her as an endless stream of thoughts filled her head. It didn’t occur to her until much later that she’d never thanked him _or_ said anything nice to him for that matter – after he’d helped her she’d just immediately returned to the defensive because she was uncomfortable talking about her unhealthy habit and her failure to address it. Which only made her feel even worse about what had happened.

It hurt knowing that Malfoy was right, she was playing with fire and she damn well knew it – yet she could not seem to make herself stop. She didn’t know how to. Of all the times he’d pointed out her flaws and shortcomings this time it hurt the most.

She also had no idea how he knew that she took milk in her tea and had tried to add it only to find an empty carton in her fridge.

-x-x-

Monday morning Hermione managed to arrive to work on time. After showering thoroughly and eating some food she’d spent the remainder of Sunday distracting herself by reviewing the proposal and completing the final revision. She’d taken Dreamless sleep potion to force herself to sleep and then covered herself in a full body glamour before putting on her black skirt and red shirt and making her way to the apparition point. She dropped a copy of the proposal and all of its appendices to Tracey, who spent the entire morning formatting and assembling the document while Hermione organized her office and prepared for the next proposal.

After lunch Anton brought in coffees and they settled into her office and worked their way through the entire thing – making a few last-minute adjustments for clarity and then agreeing as a group that the proposal was completed. She managed to get the document fully assembled by 6pm which meant that she would be able to bring it to Malfoy first thing the next morning.

Her stomach churned at the thought.

She was dreading going to his office. After what had happened on the weekend she had no idea where they stood. They’d fucked, they’d yelled, he’d held her, he’d slept in her bed clutching her tightly to his chest, they’d fought more and he’d taken care of her when her neat little boxes had broken – yet he’d left pissed off and angry. She didn’t know if he was still angry with her, if they were still fighting, or if she should try to make amends and be nice to him.

She knew that she wanted to – even though her habitual behaviour was telling her to escape and hide away from it all like she always did. Yet Malfoy and Harry’s words kept creeping up in the back of her mind. In a bizarre way seeing him again would be like seeing her own failures and being forced to acknowledge her mistaken use of occlumency. She knew she needed to fix this – and in order to do that she needed to fix herself first.

She just didn’t know how.

Her unease followed her throughout the grocery store as she shopped for food and then finally made her way home. She greeted Artemis, ate dinner and then made her decision – crawling into bed early and letting her glamours fade and exhaustion take her.

Tuesday morning her hands shook with nervousness as she made her way into the office carrying four coffees. She greeted Tracey, placing a coffee for her and one for Anton on the woman’s desk and then she retreated to her office with the remaining two and closed the door. She stood there for several minutes, her hands flat against the surface of her desk as she took slow deep calming breaths and packed away her panic.

 _This is the last time_ , she thought as she occluded her mind and forced herself to calm. _Get through today and then I’ll deal with this_.

She’d said the words a thousand times, yet today was the first time that she meant it. Once her hands had stopped shaking and she felt fully in control she gathered up the proposal – taking the time to ensure that everything was there before she grabbed the spare coffee and made her way down the hall to the elevator. The brass doors rattled as she closed them, and she swallowed in anticipation when she stepped out onto the 3rd floor of M-PaS, still not fully sure of what she was going to say but knowing that she wanted to try.

For real this time.

Several of Malfoy’s employees watched her as she made her way down the long hall towards his office. She ignored their whispers and glances and kept her head high as she closed the distance to his door. Breaking her traditional habit of barging in, she stopped before his door, balanced the proposal over her arm and then knocked. Waiting until she heard his deep voice sound through the door before she opened it and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

“Granger,” Malfoy said slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at her. “Learning some new tricks – knocking, are we? I thought you said that the proposal would not be ready until noon.”

“We finished it yesterday,” Hermione said, keeping her voice level and calm and she stepped towards his desk. She noticed that his eyes darted to the closed door before they moved back to hers. “I know that you are busy this week – so I thought I would bring it by early. I’ve confirmed that everything is there and –“

She placed the proposal down on his desk, then carefully set down the unopened coffee. She’d gone to the expensive shop – ordering him exactly the one that she had stolen from him before. His eyes dropped down to the coffee, he stared at it for a long moment before he looked back to her and arched a brow.

“Coffee?”

“Yes,” she said, clasping both hands before her tightly.

“Did you poison it?”

“No,” her eyes narrowed at him and she clenched her hands tighter, casting a silencing charm over the room. “It’s – I – I wanted to thank you. If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t poison you Malfoy.”

“Surely, not really your style is it? I imagine you favour something a little more gory,” he said flatly as he continued to stare at her. He didn’t make a move to touch the coffee. Then his brow arched in curiosity. “Thank me for what?”

“For staying,” she said quietly, hearing her voice waiver as she spoke. “You didn’t have to do that but you did it anyways and I appreciate it. I’m sorry that I always get defensive, I don’t want to be angry all the time – I _do_ care, I just didn’t know how to fix this. But I know that I did it to myself and I’m going to work on it. So – I’m sorry, for being an ass and – thank you for staying with me.”

Malfoy stared at her, his jaw was clenched tight and she could feel her heart start to race in her chest. Then slowly, he reached forward and took the coffee.

“You don’t need to thank me Granger – I’ll ignore the insult to my integrity that you thought I would do anything other than stay while you were having a fucking occlumency melt down.”

Hermione grimaced, she hadn’t thought of it that way, but she bit back her agitation. It was fair for him to be irritated with her about this.

There was a knock on the door behind her and Hermione quickly removed her wards as the door opened and Harry stepped into the office. He froze in surprise, his eyes darting between the two of them before he cleared his throat.

“Sorry – I didn’t realize you were in a meeting,” Harry said cautiously, watching as Malfoy took a long sip of his coffee.

“Hence the point of waiting after you knock Potter,” Malfoy said dryly setting the paper cup back on his desk, picking up the proposal Hermione had left and dragging it before him. “I’ll get the proposal back to you by noon.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said tightly nodding to Harry as she stepped around him. He’d given her a concerned questioning look but she only gave him a tight smile as she passed.

She didn’t want to have another conversation with him about Malfoy – not before she figured things out and got herself sorted. She made her way down the hall towards the elevator and ignored the eyes that watched her.

Tracey returned the signed proposal to her at 11:30 am, there wasn’t a single mark on it or a single note indicating that Malfoy had any issues with it. She felt her shoulders drop as the final shreds of tension left her body and she smiled brightly at Tracey who seemed just as excited at their success. Then she made her way down to Mr. Todgekins office and handed him the proposal. It was the cleanest transition she’d ever had and he was beyond pleased that they would be able to give the Herbology Association a solution before the deadline.

She left on time, ate dinner and then true to her promise she spent three hours slowly unpacking one of her smaller occlumency cubes.

It was the worst experience of her life.

She cried, she screamed, she trembled – she realized that delaying the emotional processing had only made things harder and the experience was exhausting. When she crawled into bed that night she realized that she’d not changed her sheets since the weekend and they still smelled like Malfoy. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she found it comforting and fell into a fitful sleep.

The next morning she woke feeling like she’d been ramrodded by the Hogwarts express. Her body was still sore from fucking Malfoy over the weekend and now she was burdened with heavy exhaustion over unpacking her memories and emotions. She’d woken early in a nightmare, covered in sweat and tangled in her covers. Unable to get back to sleep she relented and got up, forcing her body to move as she showered, ate and dragged herself to work. She felt dead on her feet and the thought of unpacking anything else made her nauseous – it seemed like the process was going to take her longer than she’d anticipated and she wondered how the hell she was going to manage her job while she did it.

The Ministry halls were empty when she arrived, she made her way slowly to the brass elevators, body slumped as she waited for it to arrive. At the dull chime she forced herself to open the gates and walk inside, today was going to be a very long day. Just as she turned around to close the gates she heard shoes on the marble floor and her eyes widened in surprise as Malfoy stepped inside the elevator. He froze when he saw her, his one hand clutching a hot coffee while the other braced against the elevator doors.

She hesitated. Then she stepped back and leaned against the wall, dropping her eyes to the floor and leaving it up to him if he wanted to find another elevator. After a final second of delay she saw his feet move inside and he shut the brass doors, then he moved to lean against the wall a few feet away from her. She kept her eyes on the floor even though she could feel that he was staring at her, it made her skin prickle as his gaze slid over her body and she clenched her eyes shut tight.

 _Please don’t fucking say anything, please don’t say anything – please just be quiet_ , she was perfectly well aware that she looked like someone had beaten the shit out of her – or like she’d recently recovered from a deadly disease.

The silence stretched heavy between them until they reached their building.

“You look like shit Granger,” his voice was quiet and she didn’t hear an ounce of anger or disdain.

She swallowed and forced herself to open her eyes. Plastering on a fake smile and turning to look at him. “Yes well – just paying the price for my poor choices.”

He was looking at her with the same expression he’d had in her kitchen after he’d given her tea and it made her fake smile falter.

“How much?” his voice was still low.

“One cube.”

“How many cubes?”

“Nineteen more to go.”

His face faltered and she saw something flash across his face so quickly she wasn’t able to process it. She heard the chime dinging and she knew that they’d arrived at her floor. She turned her head away from him and pushed off the wall to make her way to the door, stopping as his hand shot out before her and she realized he was handing her his coffee. She stared at it for a moment, her sluggish brain failing her, then she looked to him in confusion.

“Take it,” his jaw was clenched tight and his hand was balled into a fist at his side. “And stock up on calming draught – it makes it easier.”

The doors to the elevator opened and her eyes shifted back to them. Slowly, she took the coffee from his hand, ignoring the jolt of electricity that coursed through her body as their fingers brushed. She felt her chest tighten.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. He nodded and then she made her way down the hall to her office.

As if the start of her day hadn’t been odd enough she was called to Mr. Todgekins office shortly after lunch. She made her way there unsure of what it was that he could possibly want. She already knew that her next proposal was the Bicorn Wellbeing Mandate – a proposal that _actually_ made sense and would benefit the wellbeing of the creatures and ensure that the ones raised for their horns were given proper standard of care.

As she approached his office she saw that his door was already open, which was curious. She slowed her pace and stepped inside tentatively – biting back an audible reaction when she saw Malfoy standing before the man’s desk.

“Mr. Todgekins,” Hermione said as she forced herself to look away from Malfoy to her boss.

“Oh, Miss Granger – excellent, right on time I – Miss Granger… are you feeling okay?” Mr. Todgekins was staring at her openly and Hermione felt her jaw tighten. The man literally never took notice of her appearance and the one time he did it was on the day that Malfoy stood in the same room after giving her his coffee that morning.

“Yes sir,” she said forcing a small smile on her face.

“Okay,” his eyes narrowed at her. “I hope you’re not getting sick – I need you to be at your best for this weekend.”

“What’s this weekend sir?” she asked, her eyes darting to Malfoy. He was staring at Mr. Todgekins blankly and aside from the small nod he’d given her when she’d entered the room he was completely ignoring her.

“HAAGS,” Mr. Todgekins said brightly, his eyes moving between them both. “The Herbology Association’s Annual Gathering of Specialists. They were incredibly happy with the proposal that you completed, I sent it to them yesterday after lunch and they’ve asked me to send personnel capable of talking to the content of the proposal to the Conference – they are interested in picking your brains on some other topics and are considering having us complete future proposals.”

Hermione stood dumbfounded, her brow creasing into confusion. “Sir – what about the Bicorn Wellbeing Mandate?”

“We are going to delay that by a few days – the conference starts Friday evening with a formal gala and it closes Tuesday night with a formal dinner. There will be a few presentations that you are required to attend and then several discussion groups,” Mr. Todgekins pulled out two slips of paper and placed them on his desk. “These are your itineraries, it’s all expenses paid so think of it like a minivacation and a great networking opportunity for the Ministry to pull in more private sector work and establish some contracts. I’ve already worked to clear your schedules so that you are both free to go – my only concern, is your behaviour.”

Mr. Todgekins’ eyes narrowed as he looked between the both of them, his voice dropping to serious tone as Hermione felt wards close around his office.

“If not for the fact that you two single handedly created this proposal I would not dare consider sending the two of you together – but given that the Herbology Association has all but _demanded_ that you two be there my hands are tied. There is no one else in this bloody office who can talk to the proposal or answer the types of questions that they’re going to ask on the fly. That said – I will _not_ embarrass this Ministry by sending the two of you if you _cannot_ keep your shit together,” Mr. Todgekins’ voice had risen and he almost looked like he was getting angry. “I tolerate your behaviour in this office because you give me results and it does not disrupt your colleagues – but I will _not_ have you fighting at a formal conference and making a mockery of either department – so I’ll say this one time.

“You are _BOTH_ going to this conference whether you like it or not and so help me Merlin if I even hear about a single incident between the two of you – you are _both_ _FIRED_. _Have I made myself clear_?”

“Yes sir,” Hermione said tightly at the same time that Malfoy echoed the words.

“Good,” Mr. Todgekins said, his voice returning to his usual light hearted tone. “You are both to meet at the Grand Hotel in Ballycastle Friday at noon to register for the conference and get your rooms. The rest of the details are on these papers along with a suggested dress code for each day – from the looks of it, it seems quite formal so Granger I suggest you rest up and find some formal gowns – I don’t think that your typical wardrobe will cut it.”

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes or call him a bastard and instead she clenched her jaw shut tightly before replying.

“Yes sir,” she said quietly, accepting the paper that he held out to her.

_Asshole, I am capable of dressing nice if I feel like it._

“Right then – back to work,” Mr. Todgekins said signaling to the door.

Hermione turned on her foot and made her way out of his office and down the hall. She was irritated – she was actually looking forward to working on the Bicorn proposal and now it was being delayed so the Ministry could play games to try and turn profit. They truly didn’t care at all.

She could hear Malfoy walking just a few paces behind her and she knew that he was gaining on her. When they passed by the small empty boardroom on her floor he grabbed her arm and gently tugged her inside, closing the door behind them.

“What?” she asked as she turned to face him. Her voice sounded defeated, and she knew her body was starting to shake with exhaustion. She felt like she was fucking detoxing.

He was standing just a few feet before her and was looking at her carefully.

“Don’t unpack anything else until after this conference.”

She frowned at him, folding her arms over her chest. “Why – you don’t think I can handle doing this?”

“No – I know you feel like shit so you’re lashing out but that’s not what I meant,” he said tightly, irritation growing in his voice as he closed the space between them. “I’m saying not to do it because it gets worse each time and you won’t be able to deal with being in a room full of fucking twats for the weekend if you’re trying to do _this_ too – trust me, I know – I’ve done _both_ before. These conferences are filled with a bunch of obnoxious dicks who don’t actually give a fuck about their work. Do yourself a favour Granger and just wait until next week to unpack the next one.”

“Fine,” she said tightly, dropping her eyes to stare at his chest. His tie was blue today, she hadn’t noticed while in the elevator that morning. “I’ll wait until after.”

“Good.”

She saw him shift a fraction closer and her eyes darted up to his face. He was clenching his jaw and he looked like he was restraining something. She swallowed, feeling the air grow heavy between them.

Things between them had _definitely_ changed since the weekend.

Yet she still didn’t know what to make of it. She watched as he raised his hand slowly, carefully, bringing it to the side of her face and pushing her hair gently behind her ear. His thumb grazed against her cheek and she felt her eyes flutter at his touch, a deep exhale coming from her lungs as she opened her eyes and looked at him again.

Her stomach was knotting, her chest felt tight – she didn’t know what was going on. He looked like he was going to kiss her and not in an angry way like every other time. He moved closer, his head dropping lower and she felt her body tense as his breath brushed against her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut, then they opened as she heard his deep voice rumble just centimeters from her face.

“Your boss is a dick Granger,” his eyes were locked to hers and she felt heat flush through her body before he pulled away and turned toward the door. “See you on Friday.”

She stood there stunned, her body frozen on spot as her cheek grew cold from the absence of his touch.

_What the fuck was that?_

-x-x-

With all the crazy things going on in the world right now – stay safe my friends <3 <3

Know that you are loved.


	9. A Gathering of Horklumps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – stuck together for five days… things are bound to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday (likely) Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

“Ginny I’m not taking the boob dress.”

Hermione was seated on the end of Ginny’s bed, arms folded across her chest, legs crossed and staring at her redheaded friend in disbelief. She was holding up a skimpy silver-white dress and trying to convince Hermione that it was conference appropriate. She doubted it. Sure it would cover all her bits and pieces but it looked too slinky and risqué to be allowed at a work function.

After leaving work Wednesday night she’d apparated directly to Harry and Ginny’s and after dodging Ginny’s interrogation regarding her poor looking state they went to Diagon Alley for dinner and shopping. They’d managed to find a few things and Hermione had splurged a little on some _fancy_ lace panties and heels. Though she’d only been able to find one formal gown that she liked and a single set of formal dress robes. But according to the itinerary that Mr. Todgekins had given her – that wasn’t nearly enough.

So they’d agreed to meet Thursday night as well to raid through Ginny’s closet and find her remaining outfits. They’d been at it for over an hour and so far Hermione thought she had more than enough other options – she didn’t need the skimpy dress. Ginny had already convinced Hermione to pack her new bathing suit she’d boughten last summer, which was stupid, she wasn’t planning on swimming or using the hotel facilities. So enough was enough, she wasn’t bringing the damn _boob_ dress.

“It’s not a boob dress,” Ginny said rolling her eyes and returning to the closet to get a skimpy black dress with very little fabric. “ _This_ – is a boob dress! If I was trying to dress you like a skank I’d send you with the stuff that’s at the _back_ of my closet.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the small black piece of fabric that Ginny was holding. “ _That’s a dress?_ ”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what was at the _back_ of Ginny’s closet.

“Yes,” Ginny said giving her a devious smile before holding up the silver-white one once more. “But _this_ is a _gown_ and it only looks skimpy because of the way it hangs on the hanger. Trust me – it looks amazing on and it is not too _risqué_ for a gala. The opening nights of these conferences are used as an opportunity to show off –“

“I don’t want to show off,” Hermione cut in but Ginny ignored her and continued talking.

“You don’t wear your conservative formal wear until the actual conference days. Opening night and closing night are like – think of them like a showcase or a red-carpet event more than a conference,” Ginny said as she looked at her seriously. “If you show up in a suit or dress robes or even that black evening gown – which is a great dress, it just doesn’t suit the intent of the opening evening – then you’re not going to fit in and you’re going to draw attention to yourself and ironically – by _not_ showing off you’re going to be the one that _everyone_ is looking at and talking about.”

Hermione grimaced and she looked at the silver-white fabric again – her nose crinkle as she looked at the way the front dipped low.

“Are you serious?” Hermione said nervously, her voice suddenly small.

“Very,” Ginny gave her a sympathetic look and came to stand before her, dropping the dresses on the bed and taking both of her hands. “Hermione, I _know_ you’re not comfortable in this sort of attire – I _promise_ you that I would not ask you to wear it unless it was in your best interest. Think of it like putting on a disguise so you can blend in and _not_ be noticed. Saturday through Tuesday up until before dinner wear your suit, your dress robes and your other gowns and you will be fine – but Tuesday night you wear the blue dress that you’ve already agreed to take. Look – I’ll mark-up your itinerary and tell you what outfit to wear on which day so you don’t even have to worry about it, all you have to do is put the clothes on and then focus on the content of the conference.”

Ginny paused and dropped to her knees before Hermione, her forearms resting on her knees. She squeezed her hands and gave her sad look.

“The people that go to these things are douchebags Hermione – most of them are not _experts_ in the field – they’re businessmen – you’re not going to a gathering of nerds you’re going to a gathering of very rich people who want to feel like they did something. They’re there to socialize and strike up business deals and hear about the latest and greatest – they’ll bring a few people, like you, who actually know what they’re talking about to either do presentations or answer questions so that they can make better _business_ decisions. But those people aren’t sent alone. They’ll be there with corporate directors or their boss’s boss. They’re going to be just as uncomfortable and nervous as you are – they’re going to be expected to explain concepts to idiots who don’t understand them so that rich people can get richer – but they’ll be dressed up too. I’m actually shocked that your boss is sending you to this _unattended_ Hermione – these things are a big deal and it’s like a different world in there.”

Hermione felt herself sigh as she looked at her friend. This was even worse than she’d originally thought it was. She’d thought that she was going to a conference with a bunch of herbologists – it was called the fucking _Herbology Association’s Annual Gathering of Specialists_ and it was hosted by the Herbology Association for Merlin’s sake. She figured it would be a room full of technical nerds, half dressed up and trying to be fancy while they all talked shop.

She didn’t realize it was truly a high scale _corporate_ affair. No wonder Mr. Todgekins had threatened their jobs if they didn’t behave – no wonder he seemed pissed about having to send them, usually he went to these sorts of things for their department. But he couldn’t speak to the Dugbog proposal or anything else that went on in their department for that matter – no wonder Malfoy told her to stop unpacking cubes, this was a fucking disaster waiting to happen. She didn’t know how to attend something like this!

Why the fuck wasn’t Mr. Todgekins coming with them to supervise? How could he think this was a good idea? Did he not care? Or did he think she would be fine? Or was he looking for an excuse to get rid of the two of them?

She didn’t know how to attend one of these events, she didn’t have formal table manners or know how to talk to rich businessmen and she was often blunt in her responses when it came to technical matters because she was speaking about _facts_ not trying to schmooze or protect people’s fragile egos.

“Fuck,” Hermione mumbled as Ginny gave her hands a final reassuring squeeze.

Both girls looked up as Harry entered the room, his hair was a mess, his shoulders were slumped, and he looked exhausted.

“Hey,” he said as he stifled a yawn, his eyes already half closed.

“Hey,” Hermione said, her face torn between smiling in amusement and looking concerned. It felt like a role reversal. Was this what she looked like to them all the time?

“Harry,” Ginny sounded exhausted on his behalf. “Are you just getting in now?”

“Yes,” he said as he closed the distance between them.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“No – too tired,” he made his way to the head of the bed behind where Hermione was sitting and collapsed on his stomach across it, his feet dangling over the edge by their nightstand with his head turned toward them even though his eyes were closed. Hermione saw his body go limp the instant he touched the surface and she realized that he’d fallen asleep.

“Is he okay?” Hermione turned to Ginny.

“Yeah – he just hasn’t slept in 48 hours – we call it ‘ _pulling a Granger_ ’,” Ginny gave Hermione an amused smile as she scowled back. “They found some dark stuff horded away in a cave last week and it has been a nightmare and a half trying to get the place cleared out safely. They were supposed to have the full week and this weekend to work on it – but Malfoy was helping him on it so they had to crunch the schedule because of this HAAGS conference. Harry sent me a patronus earlier though and it seems like they’ve gotten everything stabilized enough that they can work in there safely now. I imagine that Malfoy is probably fucking dead on his feet too.”

“Oh,” Hermione said rather quietly as she looked back to Harry and saw the dark rings under his eyes. Her mind flashed back to Malfoy Wednesday morning. He’d been coming into the office incredibly early and - he’d given her his coffee even though he was working on this?

She felt her stomach knot as she recalled Mr. Todgekins’ words, he’d worked to rearrange their schedules which meant delaying her proposal – which was hardly anything at all, but it had also evidently meant crunching Harry and Malfoy’s schedule. She frowned.

Her boss truly was a dick.

“Do you think that you’ll last five days at this conference without killing Malfoy?” Ginny asked her seriously once Hermione had turned back around to face the girl.

Hermione felt her heart sink. She almost felt like her boss had just set her up to fail – and her failure would result in Malfoy losing his career.

“I _have_ to,” Hermione said tightly. “Or I’m out of a job.”

-x-x-

Friday afternoon came quickly.

After packing up the dresses she planned to borrow she’d said goodbye to Ginny and patted Harry’s sleeping foot gently in farewell. Hermione had apparated home and hauled all the clothes into her bedroom. She’d carefully packed everything away in her suitcase, using the charm that Ginny had shown her to prevent wrinkles and make everything come out of the suitcase crisp and new. Then she’d packed her makeup, several pairs of shoes, her swim suit (begrudgingly), her hair products, skin stuff, shampoo and even her thin housecoat. The event may be formal but there was nothing stopping her from being comfortable _in_ her hotel room. So she’d tossed in a few comfortable clothes and her favourite pajama bottoms.

Then she’d placed out extra food for Artemis and told him that she would be gone until Tuesday – he’d left shortly after, probably to go to Luna’s because he knew that the kind-hearted witch would feed him and make him even fatter. Knowing Luna, Hermione would probably have to apparate there to collect him because he would be too fat to fly home by the time Tuesday arrived. She’d shaken her head at that thought and then got ready for bed, doing her best to ignore her nerves and drinking a small sip of Dreamless sleep potion so she’d pass out straight away. Ginny’s description of the event had pushed her past being nervous, she was now terrified – and she needed to be as well rested as possible.

When she’d woken Friday morning she forced herself to eat breakfast and have coffee before dressing in one of her better charcoal suits and fixing her hair. Ginny had told her to arrive at the Grand Hotel in business casual attire – but she’d also said that her _business casual_ attire was probably not fancy enough. So Ginny had told her to wear this suit specifically. Hermione made sure that her itinerary was packed in her suitcase safely, Ginny had written over it with instructions and gave her a guide of which outfits to wear which days, how to do her hair for each outfit and suggested makeup. She’d even written down some helpful simple spells that covered everything from preventing sweat marks on her clothes, to making her outfits water proof, to reducing foot pain while wearing heels and even a charm to prevent her hair from failing if she got it wet.

The girl was a life saver.

She’d been to a few of these with Harry in the past for the Auror’s department and she was evidently more familiar with how these things worked given the position that her father held at the Ministry. Hermione owed her big time.

She’d spent the morning working on the Bicorn proposal, fighting against her nerves and trying to remain calm. She’d stopped at 11 am to eat lunch and then furiously brushed her teeth in the bathroom at 11:45 am as she fought back her panic. Time had completely slipped through her fingers and she didn’t feel ready.

Regardless, she made her way back to her office, shrunk her suitcase so that it fit in her jacket pocket, straightened her hair and then made her way down to the elevators as she reran her mental check list and tried to calm her nerves. She knew that she had everything – she’d checked it all over ten times and Ginny had even popped by at 10:30 am to give her a quick hug and run over the list once more. Yet Hermione still felt completely unprepared.

When she stepped off the elevator in the main Ministry foyer to make her way to the apparition point she was so lost in thought that she didn’t realize someone had fallen into step beside her until they spoke.

“You should really pay attention when walking Granger – you’ve almost ploughed into four fucking people.” Malfoy’s deep voice sounded beside her. “Are you ready?”

Hermione fought back a startled jump and scowled. She turned to look at him as they walked. He was wearing a dark grey suit and he looked immaculate. He’d either managed to get some sleep after working with Harry or he’d cast an impressive glamour.

“ _No_ ,” she said tightly, dropping her eyes back to the floor and biting her lower lip. She didn’t have it in her to throw back a snide comment. She was too nervous. “Well yes – I _have_ everything I need but I’m not _ready_ – Ginny sort of gave me a better idea what happens at these things.”

She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this or why the words fell so easily from her mouth. Maybe it was because she was truly focused on dreading the conference that she had no other capacity to be frustrated or agitated with him. Or maybe it was because she was _trying_ to be amicable toward him. Or maybe it was because of the bizarre shift in their dynamic since the weekend.

They _did_ need to work together this weekend after all, or they would both lose their jobs. And she’d be damned if she was the one to blame for the failure. How hard could it be? They’d talked without yelling what – three times now? She’d fucked him three times too and he’d seen her naked – surely they could make this work.

Though those thoughts only made her heart race quicker as a blush dusted her cheeks. How the actual fuck was she supposed to get through this weekend with him? She didn’t understand what had happened between them or what was going on. Even when trying to be nice they were still like two volatile chemicals that easily combusted when placed near each other. Yet Malfoy had shown odd moments of kindness as they both fought to keep their explosions at bay.

She sighed as they stepped outside into the cold early winter air and walked the short distance to the apparition point. They waited quietly behind two people before an area freed up and then Hermione stepped into the open space. She felt Malfoy move with her and she turned to him in confusion – she’d thought they would be apparating separately.

“I don’t need you splinching yourself before we get there,” Malfoy said snidely as he stepped before her and grabbed her hand tightly. “It’s _obvious_ that you’re distracted.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she said tightly. Her jaw clenched but she didn’t pull her hand away.

“ _Really_?” he arched a brow at her sarcastically. “You do an _impeccable_ job at looking like it Granger – you look like you’re in pain – you know a smile goes a long way at these sort of events, surely Weasley told you that.”

Hermione glared at him and squeezed his hand tightly. “I’ll _smile_ when we get there.”

Malfoy glared at her but didn’t say a word. She felt the familiar tug behind her naval as he apparated her away and landed her gently in the foyer of the Grand Hotel. The second her feet touched the floor he dropped her hand and Hermione forced a passive look over her face. Using her occlumency skills to calm her nerves just enough so that she could focus without actually boxing up her emotions. It was challenging. Then her eyes involuntarily widened as she looked around them.

The foyer was fucking huge. Witches and wizards were moving about in everything from business attire to formal ball gowns – but no one was in anything less fancy than formal dress robes. The ceiling arched high above her, chandeliers hung with sparkling candles and young wizards dressed in bellhop uniforms darted about getting their guests drinks or charming their luggage. She had never in her entire life set foot in a place this extravagant. She didn’t realize she was gaping until she felt a hand on her back as someone nudged her forward.

“Shut your trap Granger – you’re gaping like a fucking fish.”

Hermione growled and sent him a glare but she forced her mouth closed and followed beside him to the counter. In a strange way, she was almost glad that he was here – he moved confidently through the lobby, his face impassive, his stride long and powerful – he was completely comfortable in this environment and it made her realize just how different their lives had been growing up. The only way that Mr. Todgekins could have fucked her over worse was if he’d sent her alone. They made their way to the counter quickly and Malfoy leaned against the surface, catching the attention of the nearest employee.

“Ah Mr. Malfoy – so pleasant to see you again sir,” the man’s smile looked genuine and when his eyes darted over to Hermione, they widened a fraction and then his smile grew. “Forgive me for gushing but you wouldn’t happen to be Ms. Granger – would you?”

“Uh – yes,” Hermione said, her impassive face faltering as she looked at the small man behind the counter.

“Oh it is an honor to meet you – you’re unmistakable! Thank you for your service during the war,” he smiled at her warmly before his eyes darted between the two of them with curious interest. The expression on his face made her stomach knot with nerves as she realized what he must be thinking. “Now how may I help you – are you both… checking in?”

“Yes – two reservations, we’re here for the HAAGS conference as reps from the Ministry,” Malfoy said smoothly, his face still pleasantly indifferent.

“Oh yes, but of course,” the man said nodding in understanding, though his eyes still darted between them. Hermione got the distinct impression that the man was hoping something _else_ might be true. She felt her back stiffen – imagine the gossip that would cause. “Ah yes – I see them here.”

He’d tapped his wand on the book before him and two entries flared red.

“Excellent – yes the Ministry informed us Wednesday, they’ve requested two rooms – no specifics – it looks like they put you in the East wing but that’s rather inconvenient for the conference, surely we have something better than this – let me see what I can do,” the man began tapping the book again with his wand.

“Oh that’s okay sir, you don’t need to–“ Hermione’s voice cut off abruptly as she bit back a groan when Malfoy kicked her shin hard. Her mouth opened in pain as she turned and glared at him, raising her eyebrows in a ‘ _what the fuck’_ expression, her mouth hanging open in pain.

He simply raised a brow at her. Closing her jaw tightly she turned back to the counter to see the small man looking at them with an amused yet serious expression, like he knew what had happened but was trying to remain in control.

“Oh no Ms. Granger – I insist – it is no trouble at all,” his eyes darted back to his book as he fought to keep his face straight. “Ah yes, here we are – I’ve moved you to adjoining rooms in the West wing which puts you above the rooms being used for the conference. It is also closer to our roof top pool and roof top bar – you’re on the top floor facing the river. Here are your keys.”

The man placed two golden keys on the countertop and slid them towards them.

“And I’ve registered you as _‘in attendance’_ for the HAAGS conference, here are the final itineraries,” he then slid two thick pieces of paper across the counter. “Please note that the opening gala starts at 7 pm. There will _not_ be a dinner service – only drinks and light snacks so I suggest that you eat before attending. Our restaurants will likely be quite busy beforehand so if you would like to make a reservation please tap your wand on the box near your door to do so, otherwise you may do the same to order food directly to your room – or I can make you a reservation now.”

“No thank you,” Malfoy said, picking up his key and itinerary from the counter. “We haven’t decided where we will be eating yet so that won’t be necessary.”

Hermione followed his lead and grabbed her own matching items from the counter before them.

“Of course sir,” the small man said with a smile. “The lifts to the West wing are to the right, and your room numbers are on your keys. Please enjoy your stay at the Grand Hotel.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said giving the man a genuine nervous smile.

Malfoy thanked the man and pushed away from the counter, making his way toward the lifts that the man had pointed out, Hermione trailed along behind him and did her best not to limp. Once they were safely inside a small silenced lift Hermione turned and glared at him angrily.

“Why the _fuck_ did you kick me?”

“Because in a place like this – if they offer to change your room you take it Granger – it’s essentially an insult to decline,” Malfoy glared back at her. “Your etiquette is about as well rounded as a fucking barn animal’s.”

Hermione’s hand tightened around her key as her eyes narrowed. “Unlike _you_ – I didn’t want to receive special treatment because he’d recognized me.”

“It’s not about receiving _special_ treatment Granger,” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed as he stepped toward her, crowding her space in the small elevator. “It’s what these places _do_ – it’s wizarding culture – it doesn’t matter how you _feel_ about it, it’s how things work – and if you’d made a fucking show of trying to be modest and denying a room change you would have pissed a lot of people off and Mr. Todgekins would have your ass over it! I don’t know about you – but I’d like to keep my fucking job!”

The chime dinged and the doors opened. She realized that they were standing less than a foot apart, Malfoy towering over her as she glared up at him. She scowled and stepped out into the hall, her eyes glancing to her key before she turned and made her way down the hall – Malfoy following closely behind her. Their rooms were at the end, right next to one another and she froze on spot when his voice sounded again.

“I’ll meet you right here at 7:30 pm,” he said tightly, his hand resting against his now unlocked door.

“But it starts at 7 pm,” Hermione said, her jaw still tight from their last exchange. She felt a silencing ward fall over them as Malfoy turned back toward her.

“Fucking Merlin you are going to be the death of me,” he growled in irritation as he glared at her. “Yes _Granger_ – it starts at 7 pm – but _we’re_ not going until just before 8 pm – believe it or not this might just be a topic that I happen to know more about than you do! Order something to your room for dinner and make sure that you _eat_ it – then wear whatever the fuck it is that Weasley told you to without question and be ready for 7:30 pm. And _don’t_ even fucking _think_ about going down there on your own.”

Hermione glared at him as he pushed his door open and stepped inside his room, clearly wanting to escape before they turned the already tight conversation into a full-blown argument in the elaborately fancy hall. The silencing charm fell away and she scowled.

“Prat,” she muttered, shoving her own door open angrily and moving inside.

-x-x

The hallway balked in comparison to the gorgeous room that lay beyond her dark wooden door. She spent an hour inspecting the place after casting a heavy silencing charm on her room. Though she quickly realized that this was a _suite_ , not a _room_ as there was a whole sitting area with an expensive looking couch. The bedroom was an actual separate room and it contained a massive bed covered in more plush pillows than what was necessary. The bathroom was huge, there was a tub and a large walk-in shower – the toilet had its own room and own sink. There was also a large mirror with additional lighting and a counter that she assumed was for makeup.

There was a dark wood door similar to the one that entered the suite along the left-hand wall which she assumed went to Malfoy’s room – she made sure that it was locked and she added a ward on it. Then there were the windows, they stretched from floor to ceiling along the wall and gave a view of the valley and river below. She’d found the door to the patio and gone outside despite the cold wind to stare down at the land before her in awe. She didn’t realize until after she’d been out there for twenty minutes that the balcony connected with Malfoy’s – only a short little iron railing separated the space. Shivering, she’d gone back inside and unpacked.

By 3 pm her nerves got the better of her and she decided to start getting ready. She took a lengthy shower then spent almost an hour fixing her hair. She ordered dinner at 5:30 pm and forced herself to nibble on it when it appeared in her room just a few moments later. She worked on her makeup – using a combination of muggle products and spells that Ginny had taught her. She placed her marked up itinerary on the counter, propped against the large mirror and followed it closely as if it were the instructions to a dismantle a bomb – she prayed that she didn’t do something wrong and blow up.

At 7:00 pm she stood in her heels and new thin lace panties eyeing the silver-white coloured dress with disdain. It was backless – which meant she couldn’t wear a bra and she’d had to rely on charms to hold things in place. But what really set her teeth on edge was the dangerously low dipping neckline that would cut down her chest between her breasts. She glared at it. Unwilling to put it on and crossing her arms over her chest in defiance. She wanted to wear her black gown – but Ginny had specifically said to save that one for Monday. She pinched her brow and felt her stomach knotting as she looked at the dress more desperately.

“Why can’t you be more proper,” she groaned at it. A quick mental check told her it was 7:15 pm. She was running out of time.

“I don’t want to wear it,” she whined closing her eyes tight and walking before her bed. Her tall nude heels clicked across the ground until she forced herself to stop and stand before the dress once more, placing her hands on her hips and biting her lip. “ _Fuck_.”

She cast a thick glamour over her arm and a second one over the base of her neck to hide her two scars – she wasn’t going to risk them being exposed tonight. This dress left nothing hidden and she didn’t want her spell work failing. Groaning audibly in a childish whine she stepped into the dress and fastened the tie behind her neck, adding a sticking charm to ensure that it did not come undone. She added two more to ensure that the front of the dress wouldn’t slide and expose her breasts. Then she fastened her wand to her calf. Taking a deep breath she moved to the mirror and looked at her reflection uncomfortably.

She didn’t really look like herself – except that she did. She just looked, glamorous. Which was bizarre to see since she did not _feel_ glamourous on the inside.

She felt like herself – her nervous, hot headed, determined, typically ink covered self and she felt like a fraud. Her hair was down but contained in charms that made her curls spiral down her back, her nails were done, her makeup was subtle but elegant and the dress hung off of her in a way that made it look like it was made for her. It hovered just above the ground, covering her toes completely but perfectly hemmed so she wouldn’t trip. She turned, the back plunged down low to her tail bone and seeing it made her shiver. Ginny was right – she didn’t look like a skank. It was far too elegant – but she still felt immensely exposed.

Checking the time she realized it was 7:29 pm and she started to panic. She quickly cast the charm on her heels to protect her toes and shrank her room key so small she could stick it to the thin silver chain she wore around her wrist. Then she made her way to door, fighting back the nausea that was growing in the pit of her stomach and pulling open the door. She nearly ploughed right into Malfoy, he was standing directly in front of her door, arm raised and about to knock. They both froze on spot when their eyes met and she’d just avoided careening into him by a foot.

Hermione felt her breath catch as her gaze travelled from his face to his chest down to his shoes and back up. He looked like he’d stepped off a red-carpet – it was just as Ginny had said.

He _always_ wore nice suits, but she’d never seen him in anything like this. The _entire_ thing was dark black and it made his hair and eyes stand out. It looked like it had been charmed to fit him like a glove, and she found herself speechless. He was staring at her; his eyes had swept up and down her body and now he was looking at her so intensely she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Time seemed to stretch between them until finally he lowered his arm.

“You’re late,” he said tightly. His voice sounded rough as the muscles in his jaw flexed.

“I’m sorry,” she felt breathless as she spoke. She couldn’t look away from him.

“Let’s go,” he said finally, stepping away stiffly and moving down the hall. She closed her door, ensuring it locked before she moved quickly after him.

She felt like she was moving in a daze as she entered the elevator behind him. It dawned on her when the doors closed that her dress _exactly_ matched his hair and in some ways, they looked like they’d coordinated their outfits. They stood silently, not moving until finally the doors opened and she followed Malfoy toward the two large wooden doors. The large ornate doors opened at their approach and Hermione felt herself freeze on spot as her eyes widened in awe. The room was huge and it was _filled_ with people dressed just as extravagantly as they were. She felt a warm hand on her bare lower back and she jumped.

“We can’t stand in the doorway Granger,” Malfoy’s voice was low and strained and she felt him push her gently inside, steering her toward the bar on the right.

She forced herself to close her mouth and tried to look comfortable as her eyes darted around the room rapidly taking everything in. It was overwhelming.

The dance floor to the left was swimming with people who were twirling around and moving with poise and grace that she did not possess. Large windows stretched across the back of the room behind a live orchestra that played and ornate chandeliers hung from the ceiling and lit the room with a low glowing light. Men dressed entirely in grey uniforms served drinks while a few others took pictures – the flash lighting up the room every few minutes and capturing the surreal moment. She didn’t realize they’d stopped moving until Malfoy stepped before her, blocking her view of the room entirely and hiding her from the other guests. He grabbed her hand gently and placed a glass of dark liquid in her hand.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, forcing her eyes to his and ignoring the nerves that coursed through her body.

“Are you done gapping?” he said quietly taking a sip from his own glass and arching a brow at her. He looked both agitated and concerned.

Her eyes narrowed at him. It was clear that he thought she was going to blow this. She forced herself to take a deep breath and she straightened her back.

“Yes,” she said tightly, taking a sip of her drink and realizing that it was brandy.

“ _Good_ ,” he said tightly, eyeing her intently. “Because this is the part where we mingle – and I need you to get your shit together and look like you _fit_ in.”

He stepped back to her side and placed his hand on her bare lower back once more, clearly comfortable not only with the room but with the closeness between them as he moved her around and spoke to several different people. The heat of his hand burned against her skin and made her stomach knot – she fought the urge to flush under his touch each time he did it. It seemed to be how the men in the room were escorting women around – unless the woman was _obviously_ there by herself or was just so blatantly confident and powerful in her stance that it wasn’t required.

She was painfully aware that he was doing it because he didn’t trust her not to make a fool of herself in front of everyone here, and because she looked meek, small and uncomfortable next to him. It made her both relieved and angry at the same time. But she bit back her irritation and allowed Malfoy to take the lead. She needed to get through this weekend and she was determined not to fail on the first fucking night. She was determined not to be the one to fail at all.

Hermione did her best to smile and act politely, taking a sip of the brandy he’d gotten her whenever she wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. He introduced her to several people, but each conversation seemed light and pointless and she started to realize that this was what he’d meant about being surrounded by a bunch of fucking twats. Some of them were just making small talk and trying to one up each other with their outfits or latest accomplishments while appearing polite yet giving backhanded compliments. Others were making business contacts – discussing new products or ideas and making commitments for funding.

She felt like she could spot the other _technical_ experts. Every now and then her eyes would lock with another individual’s and they’d share a quiet awkward look of discomfort and understanding. Then one of them would get pulled away from their special moment of solidarity and forced into the next conversation. She’d seen one awkwardly nervous man being dragged around like he was a fact machine – he’d answer odd questions and constantly look to his boss from the corner of his eye to make sure that he was doing a good job and that he hadn’t messed up. At least Malfoy was moving her around like she was a true guest that belonged there – or he was _trying_ to. She was aware of her awkward stiffness and she simply did not have the same fluid comfortable movements that he did.

She fought back the urge to glare at a few older men who stared openly at her chest and she found herself moving unconsciously closer to Malfoy each time it happened. If he noticed or cared he said nothing and simply continued to shuffle her through the crowd of people. She took notice of the looks that she got from some of the other women too – a few of the exchanges were friendly and genuine as recognition shone in their eyes, but most were rude and angry glares as their eyes flicked between her and Malfoy with distaste. It made her wonder how many people came to these things with _alternate_ intentions.

Everyone they spoke to was either someone Malfoy knew or people who seemed to know him, and most of them seemed like douchebags. Her discomfort grew with each interaction and she felt her forced replies growing shorter and tighter as each one went by.

“Malfoy!” a rich voice rang out and they stopped when a tall thick man approached them. He was wearing an impressive suit and appeared just as glamourous as everyone else around them – but Hermione couldn’t help but shiver when his gaze slid across her body. He seemed skeezy. She instinctively did not like him.

“Mr. Beckish,” Malfoy turned toward the man and Hermione couldn’t help but think he’d taken a step closer to her before shaking the man’s hand.

“And _who_ do we have here,” Mr. Beckish’s voice inflected in a way that made her skin crawl.

“Hermione Granger,” she said somewhat tightly, accepting his hand and forcing a smile on her face as she used her go-to line. “Mr. Malfoy and I are here representing the Ministry.”

“My what a stunning young woman you’ve become – your pictures don’t do you any justice,” he said smiling as his thumb traced along the back of her hand before he let it go. She felt her eyes tighten as she tried to keep smiling politely and fought the urge to hit the strange man. “Please tell me you haven’t been allowing this man to bore you all night with talk of business Miss Granger – Malfoy is exceptionally dull when it comes to these gathering. Surely you would like better company. I don’t think I’ve seen you on the floor yet – perhaps you would be so kind as to grant me a dance.”

“Actually, we were just on our way to the floor,” Malfoy said smoothly, taking Hermione’s mostly empty brandy glass from her hand and passing it with his own to Mr. Beckish. The man’s hands shot out instinctively to catch the two glasses before they fell to the floor as his face contorted with surprise. Malfoy gave him a tight smirk. “If you’ll excuse us.”

Malfoy took Hermione’s arm, turning quickly and leading her away toward the dance floor.

“You need to fucking relax Granger,” he said tightly as they moved through the crowd.

She knew he was irritated with her – his job was riding on her ability to make it through this conference and so far she already felt like she was failing. Sure, _they_ hadn’t screamed or hit each other – yet – but she suspected that Mr. Todgekins would fire them if they performed _poorly_ in general just the same. And she was positive that her glare and discomfort toward Mr. Beckish had been obvious.

“I _don’t_ know how to _dance_ ,” Hermione hissed, ducking her head toward him as panic crept over her body. She was going to fail him. She couldn’t do this.

“ _What_?” his voice was low so no one would hear but his agitation was evident. “Haven’t you ever been to _anything_ remotely like this? What about at your banquet?”

“ _No_ ,” she whispered, irritation now ringing in her voice. She hated being here, she wanted to leave and she hated knowing that she couldn’t – she felt like a joke. “Mr. Todgekins goes to all these things – and it wasn’t _my_ banquet it was the Annual Remediation Banquet. I didn’t dance there because it wasn’t a requirement – _Malfoy_ , I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Fucking hell – _of course_ you don’t – of course Mr. Todgekins would be an idiot and send you here completely unprepared to deal with a bunch of fucking Horklumps – you’re only the person who does _all_ the fucking work while he keeps you locked securely in the fucking basement – fucking Merlin Granger, don’t you care that he slaps his name on _everything_ that you do and takes all the credit?”

Hermione froze mid-step and tugged him closer, glaring up at him.

“I _didn’t_ take my job because I wanted to climb ladders or get attention – I took it because I _care_ and I’m trying to make a difference! I don’t _belong_ here Malfoy – I don’t _want_ to go to events like this,” she hissed at him angrily, keeping her voice low so the guests moving around them would not hear. So far no one had taken any notice of them in the dim light by the windows and in the back of her mind she made a mental note to thank Ginny later for helping her blend in.

“Well I hate to break it to you Granger,” he whispered, pulling her even closer and dipping his head so his words echoed in her ear. “The world isn’t run by bleeding hearts or people who want to do _good things_ like you – it’s run by these asshats who only care about making money and making connections – _so_ , if you want to help and you want to make a difference then you need to _sell_ your projects to them. You need them to back your work either with money or expressed interest so the Ministry gives you funding – and the only way to do that successfully is by getting _attention_ and being able to hold your own in a place like _this_.

“Why do you think your department is so fucked! Your boss is a twat who doesn’t even know what it is that you do all day – he’s counting down his days to retirement and riding the leisure train, he doesn’t give a _fuck_ about you or your department – as evident by the fact that he willingly sent you here with no prep whatsoever – he doesn’t _care_ if he runs you into the ground because he’ll be _gone_ in five years and until then he’s going to keep coming to these events, not bothering to do any actual _work_ all while he has a grand old fucking time and you work yourself to death like your predecessor!”

Hermione felt herself stiffen. His hand was wrapped tightly around her upper arm – not hard enough to bruise, but tight enough to keep her pinned flush with his hard body while he whispered harshly into her ear. All she could see was his impressive suit jacket and the small black pocket square that was folded crisply and sticking out perfectly from his pocket. His tantalizing scent was flooding her nose and it made her stomach knot as his words fell heavy in her gut like a stone. She felt his lips graze her ear as he pulled her impossibly closer and lowered his voice to a dark whisper.

“You can’t _seriously_ tell me that you haven’t wondered _why_ your department is in shambles when you work as hard as you do – shitty proposals aside, _no one_ works _that_ fucking hard and doesn’t have at least _something_ to show for it. Either you’re actually _stupid_ – or you’ve been holding onto false idealist views that are going to ruin your career and leave you with nothing because you have _no_ idea what’s required to make it in this world.”

Her eyes flared with anger and she tried to jerk away from him, but he grabbed the back of her neck with his opposite hand and held her in place. She could feel his forearm pressing along the length of her spine as his fingers knotted in the hair at the base of her skull to keep her still. Her back arched as she was all but plastered against him.

“ _Are_ you stupid Granger?” his low dark whisper rumbled slowly in her ear as her body tensed impossibly tight in his hold. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides and she wanted to punch him so badly they shook.

“ _No_ ,” she said through clenched teeth in a low hiss.

“ _Good_ ,” he growled against her ear. “Because I don’t want to lose my job because your boss is a _fucking_ asshole who sent you here _knowing_ you’d fail – so plaster a fucking smile on your face – _make_ an _impression,_ and come dance with me.”

(to be continued…)

-x-x-


	10. The Possibility of Golden Snidgets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – stuck together for five days… things are bound to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

_“ Good,” he growled against her ear. “Because I don’t want to lose my job because your boss is a fucking asshole who sent you here knowing you’d fail – so plaster a fucking smile on your face – make an impression, and come dance with me.”_

She felt his hand slide away from her neck, his fingers trailing down her bare spine as he stepped back from her. His opposite hand slid down her arm to take her hand and she looked up to see that his face had shifted to a completely blank – if not slightly pleasant and impassive look. She swallowed hard and forced her face into a tight smile allowing him to pull her forward and lead her to the dance floor once more.

She wasn’t stupid.

Though she sort of felt like it now after what he’d said.

Her eyes darted around the large ballroom and she felt her heart start to flutter. She hadn’t even considered the things that Malfoy had said, she knew that the world was run by money and corporations – she wasn’t an idiot. She just hadn’t thought of how Mr. Todgekins might be affecting her department and her career when he attended these things. She hadn’t considered the possibility that he didn’t care, and she hadn’t understood what these _things_ were – nor had she understood their significance. She’d been too buried under work to pay it much mind.

She swallowed hard as she watched glamourous people talking and flirting and moving around them with ease. She felt like she’d wasted years of effort, apparently she’d done all the _wrong_ things to try and make a difference and her _hard work_ wasn’t going to get her anywhere. It was like a game, a twisted social game of politics and ‘ _who knows who’_ – and she didn’t know the rules. She didn’t know if she was cut out to make it in _this_ world. She was good at _working_ , she was good at _technical_ things, she didn’t have any high-society social know-how. But if she didn’t figure this out she was going to fail and they would both lose their jobs.

Malfoy placed her arm through his as they walked and she felt him lean towards her as they grew closer to the dance floor, his low voice drifting down to her.

“Try not to look like you’re in pain.”

“I _am_ trying,” she whispered as she attempted to relax her face. The truth was she _was_ in pain, both physically from the shoes (despite the charm) and mentally as she once again felt like the world as she knew it had been popped like a balloon before her eyes. Malfoy’s words had at first enraged her and then they’d shaken her. They stepped out on the dance floor and she felt one of his hands come to rest on her waist. The warmth that radiated from it caused her stomach to stir once more. She could feel her panic rising as she whispered to him tightly. “I don’t know what to do – how are _you_ so calm?”

“I was _raised_ in this Granger,” he whispered lightly, casually taking her hand and making it look like they were both pleasant and sure of their actions. “Put your hand on my shoulder, _relax_ and just follow my lead.”

Nervously she brought her hand to his shoulder and she gripped his hand tightly. He stepped toward her and she stepped back, she saw his almost imperceptible nod as he moved again, and she moved with him. He held her both lightly and firmly, almost as if he was carrying some of her weight for her so she could move across the floor like she was gliding. She looked around them nervous, people floated past them quickly and she felt her pulse quicken – then she felt his hand squeeze hers tightly and her eyes darted back to him.

“Eyes on me Granger,” his voice was low and it sent a tremble through her body. “Chin higher – move on the balls of your feet.”

She followed his lead and implemented every direction he gave her – biting down her naturally rageful response to his criticisms and instead choosing to take them as _helpful guidances_. Though even then it was hard not to want to smack him.

While their movements were far from perfect, somehow, she managed not to step on his toes and she got her legs to move in sync with his and those around them. Gliding across the floor and allowing him to twirl her twice. When the song ended everyone on the dance floor stopped and applauded the orchestra. Hermione followed Malfoy’s lead once more, standing to his left side and clapping with the others around them as the orchestra stood and took a bow. Then she was in his arms once more and they danced to two more songs before he finally led her from the floor toward the bar.

She accepted the drink that Malfoy handed her and fought the heat that flooded her body when he placed his hand on her lower back once more and leaned down close.

“That man there in the green suit is Bennett – he’s the head of the Herbology Association, we’re going to go speak to him next but whatever you do don’t mention Venomous Tentaculas–“

“Why?” Hermione turned to him. She felt her throat tighten when she realized that their faces were only centimeters apart.

He stiffened and she saw him swallow. “Because he had a _bad_ experience with them, look just don’t mention them. Thank him for inviting you – tell him that you enjoyed working on the Dugbog proposal and that your services are available should they ever need assistance with anything else.”

“Okay,” she nodded, letting him lead her forward once more and trying to keep her chin held high as Malfoy had directed her.

“Bennett,” Malfoy’s deep voice radiated out and she saw a smile cross his lips as they closed the distance to the man.

“Ah Malfoy! Draco Malfoy – I’m surprised they let you leave that hell hole with how busy they keep you, how are you?! Gosh it’s hard to believe how much you’ve grown, I still remember when you only came up to my knees,” Bennett was an older man and he had a friendly smile. He didn’t stick out his hand and instead he pulled Malfoy into a tight hug. Hermione had to fight to keep her eyes from widening in shock – she didn’t think she’d ever seen Malfoy _hug_ anyone in her entire life. Picturing it was like trying to imagine what a boggart looked like before the closet door opened and seeing it was like seeing magic for the first time all over again.

Malfoy laughed gently – he fucking _laughed_ , and Hermione started to realize that he _really_ knew this man. He seemed to know fucking everyone in the room but from the looks and sounds of things _this_ man had known his family for a very long time.

“They let me out on occasion – how have you been?” Malfoy said stepping back from the man.

“I’ve been well – very well, thank you – and how is your mother?”

“She’s doing well,” Malfoy said giving the man another smile. “I actually wanted to introduce you to my colleague – Miss Granger.”

“Oh Miss Granger!” Bennett’s eyes seemed to light up when he saw her and he outstretched his hand to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” Hermione said with a genuine smile, she liked this man and he wasn’t creepy about shaking her hand. “Thank you so much for inviting me – this place is incredible.”

“Well I was a bit concerned that Mr. Todgekins wasn’t going to let you out of his sight!” Bennett chuckled. “He was very adamant about attending himself because of your workload but I’m afraid I insisted that you come as we were very impressed with your proposal – I do hope that I haven’t caused you too much trouble asking you to come for the extended weekend.”

“Oh no – not at all sir,” Hermione said smoothly. “I’m happy to be here, it was no trouble at all – I enjoyed working on the Dugbog proposal and I would be happy to help out with anything you might need in the future – it was truly fascinating work.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Bennett nodded. “We have some upcoming work with our Northern greenhouses, with the upcoming amendments regarding werewolf legislation we’re interested in trying to grow Aconite in order to meet apothecary supply requirements.”

“I see,” Hermione said as her brain raced. Aconite wasn’t grown in greenhouses and the reason was clear. This she could do; this was just logic. “I imagine that you’re concerned about attracting Golden Snidgets and given their endangered classification – dealing with them would be quite challenging.”

“Indeed,” Bennett said, his eyes watching her as if he could see her mind racing. “Incredibly challenging – what I need to know is if it is _plausible_ and if it is worth my time funding a study to determine the costs of implementing whatever measures are necessary.”

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Without fully running the numbers or completing the arithmancy and charms work I can’t say if the measures required would leave the Aconite operation cost effective – but I _can_ confirm that it is absolutely possible to develop wards against the Golden Snidgets that would meet the Protection Act requirements.”

“See this right here,” Bennett’s smile went wide and he turned to Malfoy and gripped his arm in a friendly manner before turning back to her. “ _This_ is why I wanted you here – you know your stuff! I read the Dugbog proposal Miss Granger – usually my team keeps all the paperwork to themselves but I was curious given the quick turnaround, so I decided to take a look. Your work was impressively thorough and well organized! I always suspected that Mr. Todgekins was hiding his talent from us – worried we might try to steal you from under his nose I bet. Excellent! How long would it take you to complete a preliminary study?”

“Four weeks,” Malfoy said smoothly, not letting her reply. Which was probably smart because she would have only said two weeks, and then she would have been swamped. “In order to allow proper reviews and sign-offs.”

“Of course, of course,” Bennett smiled. “Well – we are not looking to make any moves until spring so that leaves us plenty of time to complete the work if the preliminary report looks promising. Miss Granger – please tell Mr. Todgekins that we’ll be in touch. Unfortunately, I need to go see that old bird over there regarding Shrivelfig issues but please – grab another drink and enjoy the night. I look forward to seeing how your contributions add to the discussions over the next few days.”

Bennett shook Malfoy’s hand then her own and then made his way across the room to a tall birdlike looking lady. She quickly found herself swept up into another conversation as a young woman stepped toward them immediately after Bennett left.

As the night continued Hermione’s confidence waived all over the scale. Her discussion with Bennett seemed to have gone well and it had boosted her confidence – but then other conversations left her feeling like an idiot and they’d quickly dismantled the small confidence she’d gained. In the end she was left feeling incompetent and self-conscious.

Waiters put fresh drinks in her hand and the streams of new faces seemed endless. The music played and she tried to remain calm and steady on her feet as exhaustion set into her bones. She danced with Malfoy twice more to avoid dancing with other people so she wouldn’t embarrass herself. Then, after a conversation with a beautiful, yet snide and cunning witch named Amber had left her feeling particularly unfit to be there she refused a new drink and she felt Malfoy step closely beside her. His hand came to rest on her lower back once more and he guided her toward the exit.

They left the room silently, Hermione doing everything that she could to hold her composure until they were safely in the silenced elevator – then when the doors closed, she let her shoulders crumple and a heavy sigh left her lungs. She rested her head back against the wall behind her and bit back a groan of anguish and pain as her feet ached and the final shreds of her confidence crumbled to a small pile of dust.

Amber had been a bitch.

The witch was clearly born into this like Malfoy. She was confident, comfortable, and devious. She’d backhanded complimented Hermione so badly that she felt like she’d been physically slapped – all while Hermione watched the girl aggressively try to get Malfoy to dance with her.

She felt her heart sinking and she bit her lip and willed herself to calm down. She wasn’t cut out for this shit and the alcohol wasn’t helping. She knew she was tipsy and if anything it was just making her sadder and _more_ insecure. She had no idea how Malfoy seemed so sober after how much he’d drank and the both of them had looked like they’d not had a drop compared to most of the people in the room – by the time they’d left, everyone seemed sloshed.

“How do people do this?” she said quietly, trying to hold her voice steady as she kept her eyes fixed on the door. She’d never felt so small and so insecure in her life.

“You get used to it,” Malfoy said, his voice low beside her.

“I’m not cut out for this,” she said hearing her voice crack as the elevator doors chimed. She swallowed hard and pushed her way out, moving down the hall and glaring at the floor before her as she walked. Her feet felt like they were breaking and the agitation that she’d been withholding the entire night was finally breaking free from deep within her chest. She paused midstride and reached down to grab her heel only to freeze as Malfoy’s silencing wards closed tightly around them and his voice cut through the air.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ take your heels off in the _hall,_ Granger.”

She heard him closing the distance between them and she felt him grab her extended arm. She glared at him as he forced her to stand straight and kept her walking down the hall.

“ _What_ does it matter Malfoy,” she said angrily, trying to rip her arm from his grasp. “The night is _over_ and my feet are fucking breaking in these ridiculous shoes!”

“Because the night isn’t _over_ until you’re back in your hotel room with the door warded Granger,” he hissed in her ear as he continued to drag her along the hallway to her door. “You’re less than fifty steps from the finish line and you’re giving up!”

“I’m _not_ giving up!” she spat when they reached their doors and she ripped the key from her bracelet, enlarging it and opening her door far more aggressively than necessary. “I’m acknowledging the fact that I’m not _fucking_ cut out for this! But I’m not _giving_ up! I don’t see what _shoes_ have to do with it!”

She pushed her way inside her room, fully aware that Malfoy had followed her inside and shut the door behind them. She turned around to glare at him as he closed the distance between them.

“It has to do with _it_ because these things are _entirely_ about _appearances_ – you don’t know who else is staying on this floor Granger!” Malfoy grit out. “So I don’t care if your foot is physically fucking broken – you keep your _fucking_ heels on and save your unnecessary self-deprecating implosions for when you’re inside your room!”

“ _Unnecessary_ self-deprecating implosions,” she felt her voice drop as her throat tightened. She arched a brow at him, then reached down and ripped off her heels, tossing them to the side and hissing in pain. She felt like a ball was growing in her chest as all her insecurities started to leak out. “I’m _not_ being self -deprecating! I’m simply stating a _fact_ Malfoy! I _don’t_ belong in that room – I look like a fucking idiot in there in this stupid dress! I don’t know how I could have made it any more painfully _obvious_ to all those glamourous people that I don’t _belong_!”

“NO ONE IN THAT ROOM IS BETTER THAN YOU!” he bellowed at her.

His eyes were dark with anger as he stepped toward her and for the first time ever, she unconsciously stepped backward in surprise as her eyes went wide. His face was livid and the volume of his voice had completely caught her off guard. He moved toward her and closed the distance she’d created.

“They just _THINK_ that they are because they’ve been _TAUGHT_ to think that way! They’re all assholes Granger! You are smarter than _EVERYONE_ in that room and your dress _isn’t_ stupid!” she saw his hands clench as he yelled at her. “The only thing that you’re lacking is confidence – it’s the only difference between you and them! People like Mr. Beckish and that stupid bitch Amber can smell the fear on you, and they will walk all over you and _crush_ you out of their way if they don’t think that you’re useful to them. Did you _forget_ that you essentially closed a business deal with _Bennett_? Who happens to be one of the few people in that room who actually mattered?!”

“I was only fine talking to _him_ because I _knew_ what I was talking about!” she yelled back at him as she waved her arms in frustration. She could feel her jaw start to tremble. She was overwhelmed from the evening, defeated, and she was too exhausted to be yelling at him. She could hear her voice becoming shrill and desperate as the words poured from her mouth, almost like she was pleading with him. “With everything else – I have _NO_ idea what I’m doing _Malfoy_! I can’t even fucking dance! I look like an idiot out there – and I’m going to slip up and then _you’re_ going to lose your job and it’s going to be _entirely_ my fault and my boss doesn’t even fucking care because he’s an asshole!”

“Granger you’re _not_ going to fuck up!”

“You don’t know that!” her voice had broken and she could feel herself starting to spiral. She was far too tipsy to be dealing with this. She should have stopped drinking earlier in the night because she was getting emotional and she’d _never_ been good at being emotional. “I _know_ that you’re frustrated with me – I _know_ that I don’t know what I’m doing down there – and I’ve already embarrassed you half a dozen times and –“

“Granger!” Malfoy had grabbed her upper arms and leaned down into her face, cutting her off with a tight low angry voice. “Merlin help me – you will _not_ fuck up. _Fuck_ your boss and _fuck_ everyone else here! You can do this – you just need to relax and be more confident!”

“I don’t know how!” she said angrily as she looked up into his blue-grey eyes.

“Then _I’ll_ show you,” he said tightly. Something in his eyes almost softened and in one swift movement he bent and dropped one arm behind her knees, scooping her from the floor into his arms like she weighed absolutely nothing and moving her toward the large expensive looking couch in the sitting room.

“ _Malfoy_ – what the fuck!”

He dropped her on the couch then kneeled to the ground before her. Grabbed her leg, picked up her foot and then pressed his thumb into the center before muttering a spell. She felt instant relief spread through her foot. She stared at him wide-eyed as he picked up her opposite foot and then repeated the process.

“What was that?” she said quietly.

Her body tensed as she watched him grip her ankle, then slide his hand up her calf, pushing the soft silver-white fabric up her leg. The warmth of his hand made a shiver run through her body as the heat in her center started to stir. She swallowed as he carefully removed her wand from her calf and gently set her foot back on the ground. He placed her wand on the table beside him and stood.

“A spell my mother used to use when she had to go to shit like this,” Malfoy said extending his hand to her.

She took it and he pulled her from the couch so she was standing just a foot before him. Her chest tightened as his eyes slid over her face and his jaw clenched – then slowly he released her hand.

“If there is something that you don’t know – _ask –_ and I’ll tell you what to do,” Malfoy said quietly, holding her gaze. “When you are at the conference – you keep your head high, your face impassive and you treat _everyone_ nicely all while _knowing_ in your head that you’re better than them – _don’t_ be a pushover. Don’t let your insecurities get the better of you and certainly don’t show it. You need to exude confidence and a ‘ _don’t fuck with me vibe´_ so that leeches like Mr. Beckish don’t run their dirty fucking hands all over you – you give them an inch Granger, and they will take a fucking mile.”

As Malfoy stood directly before her she could feel the heat radiating off his body. He continued to tell her how to handle the crowds and pretend like she knew what she was doing. His closeness was distracting and she fought to keep her attention on his words and ignore the other confusing emotions that were radiating through her – she was too tipsy, too stressed, and he was too close. She could smell him and she could feel the fire in her center sparking to life as she watched him speak. Then she swallowed hard at his next words.

“I’ll teach you how to dance – we can practice each night so that by the time Tuesday comes you’ll know what you’re doing,” his voice had subsided to a low rumble as if he was running out of steam. He looked tired. “Tomorrow is all presentations – it will be easier, all you have to do is sit and listen. The only time that people will talk is during lunch – we can skip dinner and no one will notice, most people will just go get shit faced after the last presentation anyways.”

“Okay,” her voice sounded small and she nervously licked her lips. Dancing with Malfoy in a room full of people was one thing, but dancing with him here – alone, felt like something else entirely. “Thank you.”

“Thank me when this conference is over and you’ve shown that your boss is fucking incompetent and you don’t need him,” he said slowly as he let out a sigh.

She saw his shoulders drop slightly as he looked at her, his eyes tracing over her thin frame before they moved back up to meet her gaze. She felt a shiver roll down her spine as she stood there under his gaze, unsure of what to make of him staring at her like that. Unsure of what to make of him helping her through the entire night – he’d been agitated and angry, so had she, but despite all odds they’d made it through the first day and both of them were _alive_.

It was something.

“You did _fine_ tonight Granger,” Malfoy said quietly, the muscle in his jaw flexed as she saw him swallow.

She could feel the familiar tightness in the air between them – the same as it had been in the small boardroom when she thought he was going to kiss her. His hand moved toward her then froze and she felt her breath catch in her chest.

“Get some sleep,” he said finally. “I’ll meet you tomorrow at 7:00 am.”

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She watched as Malfoy hesitated and then slowly turned and made his way toward the main door.

“Wait,” the word escaped her like a quiet gasp.

He froze, turning back to look at her.

She swallowed and then unwarded and unlocked the door between the rooms from her side. She knew he could feel the shift because his eyes moved to his left and then back to her.

“Just – you can just use that door,” she all but whispered.

He stood there stiffly, looking at her carefully like he was trying to understand. Then finally, he nodded and moved to the door. She felt him remove the wards on his side before he stepped through it and closed it behind him. She stood there in silence, staring at the closed door waiting – waiting to feel his wards reassemble, waiting for him to lock it and close her out.

But he didn’t.

So she left her side unwarded and unlocked too and then made her way to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

-x-x

The next morning, Hermione put on her absolute best suit as per Ginny’s instructions, casting all the same charms and completing her makeup. She made herself eat breakfast and she even stood on the small balcony for twenty minutes, enjoying the scenery and drinking her coffee before heading inside to finish getting ready. She’d slept like a fucking rock the night before, she’d been exhausted after the opening gala though the second she opened her eyes her mind was cluttered with confusing emotions and thoughts about Malfoy. She didn’t allow herself to bury them away like she normally would have and instead she just flicked through them in her mind as she finished her coffee.

She could still feel his hands on her back, her waist, her legs, her feet – it was like every time he touched her the contact was burned into her and it left her body tingling with a bizarre sort of want. Which had been confusing enough when everything had been angry – but it was even more confusing now that things weren’t. To people who didn’t know them they would think that their interactions the previous night had been tense and angry – and they were, but it was _nothing_ in comparison to what they were normally like. It had been tame, and they’d actually managed to coexist for an entire evening without throwing a fist or angrily having sex.

Yet the tension between them was growing and she didn’t know what to make of it, and by not allowing herself to occlude _anything_ she was struggling.

Did he want her outside of angry sex? Was he being _kind_ to her? Or was he simply concerned about getting through this weekend and saving his job? She was afraid to know the answer to that question – afraid to know how it would make her feel.

Checking the time, she saw that it was almost 7:00 am and she quickly made her way to the door to put on her black stilettos, then met Malfoy in the hall. He was wearing another suit, but this time it was dark charcoal grey, almost like hers – and his red tie matched the red blouse she was wearing. Hermione’s brow furrowed but she refrained from commenting on it – she was going to talk to Ginny when she got home. They walked in silence to the elevator taking it to the conference and then grabbing seats within the large room.

He was right. Today was easier.

Some of the presentations were surprisingly interesting, others were a complete fucking waste of time and were essentially companies trying to sell their products. She sat on Malfoy’s left side the whole time, trying her hardest to ignore the fact that their upper arms brushed each other’s and not moving until there was a break for coffee, then again for the break at lunch. Lunch was delicious and Hermione managed to avoid a lot of small talk by following Malfoy around closely and only speaking to the people he spoke with. She kept her chin high, her voice even, and her face politely blank. She felt like she actually did really well – at least in comparison to the night before.

By the time the afternoon presentations were halfway through she realized what Malfoy had meant about people wanting to go get trashed. Several people had disappeared from the large room after the afternoon coffee break and more people started to trickle out of the room after that. It wasn’t even 5:00 pm yet and people were already itching to go _socialize_ and have _fun_. She stayed in her seat next to Malfoy through every single presentation and even accepted a business card from a man after the final presentation ended at 6:00 pm.

That night dinner was informal, which wouldn’t be the case Sunday or closing night on Tuesday so they were able to easily slip away to the elevators without being noticed. They made their way up to their floor and walked in silence until they reached their doors. Despite the pain in her feet, Hermione didn’t dare attempt to take off her shoes.

“7:00 pm?” Malfoy asked her, his hand on the door to his room.

“Yeah that works,” Hermione nodded, biting down her nerves. “Uh – my room or yours?”

“Mine – just use the door.”

“Alright.”

“Wear a dress and the shoes you plan to wear Tuesday night.”

“Okay.”

They both made their way into their rooms and Hermione felt her stomach knot as the door closed behind her.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_ her thoughts spun out of control.

She ordered herself dinner and then peeled off her suit. Running her hands through her hair as she bit her lip and paced before her bed. Every time she was alone with Malfoy the air grew tight and now she was about to go to _his_ room to _dance_ with him – _alone_. She didn’t know how to prepare herself or what to expect. Everything between them felt confusing and complicated and difficult.

She cast a glamour across her neck and arm – she hadn’t needed it with the suit she’d worn that day but with the black dress she’d pulled out for dancing those areas would be exposed. Her food arrived a moment later and she forced herself to sit down and eat, chewing each bite carefully as she mulled everything over in her head.

He was helping her.

Malfoy.

The guy she’d hated and yet fucked. He was helping her for the second time. He’d stayed with her during her weakest moment when her mind had all but collapsed and now, he was helping her yet again to get through this conference. Not to mention the coffee and the hint he’d given her on Wednesday regarding the nature of this event. But the question was, why?

That was what she didn’t understand.

She could argue that in _this_ case it was to protect his own job but that didn’t explain the intensity between them or what happened at her flat – or the coffee. She could argue that at her flat he’d simply helped because it was the _right_ thing to do as he’d hinted when she’d given him that coffee Tuesday morning and apologized – but she’d never thought of Malfoy as being the type of person who followed a moral compass or held integrity highly. She paused mid bite.

Maybe _that_ was the problem.

She kept thinking that she knew who he was and she’d react to him under those assumptions. Even still after she’d decided to _try_ – decided to fix things – she was _still_ trying to figure him out based on information and details that she _thought_ she knew. She was operating solely on guesswork that was based on old information and in reality – she didn’t fucking _know_ him. Not at all.

Malfoy: blonde rich prat, born to a pureblood line, and ex-Death Eater who lived with Voldemort for a year. He hated Harry, herself, Ron and Ginny – and yet now, somehow, he was _friends_ with Harry? He treated Ginny nicely. He still did not seem fond of Ron but honestly she couldn’t really blame him there. She pondered further. He had anger issues, clearly, but she had those too. He donated massive sums of money to research – though she’d never bothered to ask what research so she had no idea what he was funding or why he might be doing it.

She also had no idea why he cared about his job so much or why so many people the other night seemed to _like_ him – were they just sucking up or was it something else?

He used to constantly mention his family and heritage and now he _never_ mentioned it at all – actually, now that she thought about it he seemed to only ever comment on his mother and that was only ever after someone asked. He purposely hid his ring to avoid women harassing him and while he seemed to know _everyone_ she wasn’t aware of him having any real friends or associates.

He’d gotten angry when she’d called herself a _mudblood_ even though he’d called her that for seven fucking years. He was apparently educated on muggle literature… and he got angry at her for not caring or taking credit for things?

She felt her brow furrow in confusion and then a strange realization hit her: she didn’t _understand_ him because she _didn’t_ fucking know him.

That was the hard truth.

Of course she didn’t know what was going on – there was no way that she could figure out what was happening between them based off the small amount of information that she had. No fucking way. She didn’t know who he was. She didn’t know his motivations. She didn’t even know what he’d done between the war and four months ago. There was a gap of _years’_ worth of information missing from her timeline and she’d never tried to fill it. She’d have to ask him, either directly or indirectly to gather more data if she wanted to understand him.

Was this how he felt about her?

Was he just as fucking confused as she was?

She picked at the salad on her plate and swallowed hard. The biggest question that floated through her head, and the one that was really eating away at her was: what did _she_ want from him?

Did she _want_ to hate him? Did she want to be his friend? Did she want more than that? Or did she want to get to know him and then decide?

Could she even be his friend after everything that had happened both past and present? When she first went to see him at M-PaS she had wanted to start over – she had _wanted_ to be his friend, or at least be amicable coworkers.

It seemed like such a strange thought now given everything that had happened. Given how fucking reactive they both were to each other – was that a result of her occlumency? Had she not cubed everything up and learned how to properly deal with her emotions maybe she wouldn’t be so angry all the time and maybe she wouldn’t have exploded on him so badly.

Assuming that she ever managed to finally finish dealing with her cubed-up emotions would she become less angry? Would they be able to get along then? Or was the hatred and volatile nature of their relationship simply because they were too aggressive and headstrong?

She frowned.

She didn’t know what she wanted – but she did know that she _didn’t_ hate him anymore.

The alarm she’d set chimed in her head and she pulled herself from the small desk, walking to the large closet and pulling out her dress. She finished getting ready as her thoughts continued to tumble. She re-checked her glamours, strapped on her tall silver heels and then made her way to Malfoy’s room.

-x-x-

“ _Fuck!_ ” Hermione cursed as she lost her footing and nearly fell backward. Malfoy’s grip on her tightened and he righted her.

“You _need_ to _relax_ Granger – you’re getting fucking worse _every_ time!” Malfoy’s irritated voice rang out and she glared at him hard.

“I’m _trying_ to!”

“ _No_ you’re _not_!” he spat “You’re tense and you’re not paying attention!”

“Okay fine I’m not!” she pulled her hands from him and tangled them into her hair as she let out an angry groan.

They’d been at it for over an hour and she _was_ getting worse – she had _started_ worse than she’d been at the damn gala and she knew exactly why. Her head was muddled with thoughts, her concentration was fucking shot because they were too close and the warmth of his hands on her body was doing strange things to her. She was flicking between confusion, anger and lust and she felt more fucking confused today than she had been after the first time they’d fucked. Things between them had become so muddy and confusing that she didn’t know where the line was anymore or if there even was one.

She kept stepping on his feet, tripping over her own legs and she couldn’t seem to master anything besides a basic slow waltz. Malfoy had tried to be patient with her initially but it had worn thin twenty minutes in when her stiletto stabbed his foot.

“How is it that you’re _worse_ than you were last night?!” he said angrily moving to the small bar in his sitting room and ripping a bottle off the counter.

“Because I can’t fucking focus!” she spat.

“Why not?!” he snapped, turning his glaring eyes to her – the large bottle of what was probably expensive brandy held tightly in his hand.

She clenched her jaw, she hadn’t thought that one through, she’d had no intention of giving the honest answer when she’d yelled it.

“Because I _can’t_ ,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Just fucking _perfect_! Well how about you figure it out!” he said as his face twisted in anger. “I need a _fucking_ drink.”

He summoned two glasses from the shelf behind the counter and cracked open the bottle, pouring a large drink into each glass. Hermione caught the one he hurled her way and they both drank, their eyes locked as if in a challenge to see who would stop first.

They didn’t.

She downed the glass and shot it right back to him – hoping that it might shatter on his stupid confusing face. Being the prat that he was though, he snatched it sharply from the air, slammed it on the counter and filled it again. She scowled at him – was he trying to have a fucking pissing contest?

Malfoy sent the refilled glass back to her and she grabbed it from the air tightly, taking a step towards him and downing the contents of it as he downed his own. This time she held onto her glass and stared at him hotly, eyes narrowed. She watched as he placed his empty glass on the bar, stood up and moved toward her. She held her spot as he approached, unsure of what it was he was going to do but determined not to back away. He closed the distance with strong angry strides, then ripped the empty glass from her hand and sent it back to the bar in one fluid motion.

He grabbed her tightly, pulling her toward him and dragged her hand up to his shoulder.

“Stop – looking – at – your – feet,” he said through a clenched jaw as his hand tightened on hers and he placed his opposite one more tightly than necessary on her waist, jerking her body into his. “Look at _me_ and _follow_ my lead – stop _fighting_ the natural flow of the movements.”

Hermione grit her teeth as she glared at him. He stepped forward and she moved. She kept her eyes glued to his as he continued to push her body around the room.

She could feel the effects of the brandy kicking in and her grip on him tightened as the rest of her body loosened. His eyes glinted as they watched her and the steps became easier. Her legs flowed smooth like liquid and her feet stepped _with_ his instead of on his. She held him tightly as they circled around the room and after several more steps his hold on her changed and he pulled her tighter. She could feel his hard body against hers as he continued to move her, and she felt her body growing hot. They were definitely not waltzing anymore. She wasn’t familiar enough with formal dances to know the name of this one but she thought it might be some version of a tango.

She continued to move with him as he led her around the room, their feet moving quickly and their bodies pressed tightly against one another. Soon her pulse was racing and she could feel it beating in her ears. The heat between them was unbearable as his hand slid down her spine and he spun her out and pulled her back in. Her hands knotted into the fabric of his suit and she clutched him tightly, naturally, as her body became like clay in his hands. Her breath caught when he dipped her low, his hand pulling her leg up his side.

When he pulled her back up her hands instinctively went to his hair, knotting into the blonde locks as his hand slowly slid down her thigh to her knee. Her forehead was pressed against his and they were both panting. Her eyes were locked to his, his hand pressed tightly along her back and she was so close against him she could feel _everything_. She could see the hunger and want in his eyes and she felt the coil in her lower abdomen curling tightly as they gasped for air. Her heart fluttered in anticipation from the way he was looking at her – but he didn’t move, the inch between their lips remained as he continued to hold her tightly.

Then slowly, his grip on her loosened and he let her leg slide back down his side to the ground – lowering her onto both feet. Confusion clouded her eyes as he stiffly stepped away from her and she stood there cold without his touch as her arms lowered to her sides. She was still breathing heavy and her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she thought it might burst. She didn’t understand.

Why hadn’t he kissed her?

Why hadn’t he fucked her?

Why was he moving away from her?

“You _can_ dance Granger,” Malfoy said tightly, taking another small step back. “You just need to focus.”

She stared at him, feeling a tightness form in her chest as he seemed to force himself away from her.

It hurt.

It fucking burned in her throat and she didn’t know why.

“Tomorrow starts with brunch at 10:30 am,” he said as his jaw clenched, he averted his eyes to look at the dark window to his left. “I’ll meet you at 10:00 am.”

Hermione felt her jaw clamp shut as her back went stiff. Without a word she nodded and moved to the door between their rooms, wrenching it open and slamming it shut behind her. She moved to her bedroom and tore off her dress in anger, dispelling her glamours and kicking off her shoes. She yanked a comfortable pair of pajama shorts and a loose-fitting long sleeve shirt from her suitcase and put them on as her jaw tightened.

She felt so angry. She was livid and hurt and she wasn’t sure that she could admit to herself why. Her heart raced in her chest as she paced in her room – she should go to bed. She should just go to bed and just let it fucking go.

Her fists clenched tightly at her sides and she paused midstride and then stormed back out in the sitting room of her suite and glared at the closed door between their rooms.

She was mad that he hadn’t touched her. She was mad that she’d _wanted_ him to touch her – she was fucking wet for him and desire had been plastered on her face more obvious than a fucking neon sign. And yet he hadn’t taken it. She’d been pasted against his fucking body, he had her in his _hands_ and he didn’t do a _fucking_ thing. She’d seen the desire in his eyes, she’d seen the burning want – why she had no idea, but it was fucking there! And yet he’d done nothing!

Her mind was spinning – she’d wanted him, she wanted him to fuck her – she still did. It was confusing and desperate and she didn’t understand it but she knew that it was what she had wanted and that’s why she was angry. He’d fucked her three times already and now he refused to?! She _knew_ that he wanted to – so what the fuck was going on?!

Was it because of what had happened the last time? Or had she done something to turn him off?

Was it because she’d drank and he was worried that maybe she didn’t really want it? Yes she was beyond tipsy, probably drunk, but she still knew what she was fucking doing and as much as it made her head swim because she couldn’t understand why – she knew she wanted him.

She paced before the door as her shoulders grew tense and the heat in her body grew unbearable. The alcohol was coursing through her and making her emotions even more volatile. Her shoulders heaved as her breath came in pants and she grit her teeth so tightly it hurt. Even if she did want him why was she _this_ angry?

Why had his rejection made her so upset?

She let out an angry groan of frustration and knotted her hands in her hair. She knew that with her silencing wards he would not be able to hear her and so she groaned once more as she finally came to a stop. Her heart pounded in her chest and she turned her head and glared daggers at the door, dropping her hands to her sides in tight balled fists.

“ _Fuck_ this!”

She turned on her heel and marched to the door between their rooms, grabbing the handle tightly and ripping it open. To her surprise it wasn’t locked and the door wrenched open hard as she stepped forward and froze.

Malfoy was standing before the door, his suit jacket removed, tie crooked, three buttons undone, hair a mess, leaning slightly toward it as his hand gripped the edge of the frame so tightly his knuckles were white. His head had been hanging down toward the ground, but it snapped up the second the door opened. His eyes were still heated, she could see the tension in his shoulders and the strain across his frame.

(to be continued…)

-x-x-


	11. The Otter and The Dragon Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – stuck together for five days… things are bound to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

**For Tally and Monster <3 ** **Enjoy!**

_She turned on her heel and marched to the door between their rooms, grabbing the handle tightly and ripping it open. To her surprise it wasn’t locked and the door wrenched open hard as she stepped forward and froze._

_Malfoy was standing before the door, his suit jacket removed, tie crooked, three buttons undone, hair a mess, leaning slightly toward it as his hand gripped the edge of the frame so tightly his knuckles were white. His head had been hanging down toward the ground, but it snapped up the second the door opened. His eyes were still heated, she could see the tension in his shoulders and the strain across his frame._

Her anger faltered – had he been standing there staring at the door and debating going to her?

A single painful heartbeat passed between them as they both stared at each other. Malfoy’s expression was torn between relief, anguish and disbelief.

Then she moved through the doorway and crashed her lips against his. Her right hand tangled in his hair as her left grabbed his shoulder tightly. She felt his arms curl around her like Devil’s Snare and then his hands were everywhere. They slid down her body, under her shirt – gripping her tightly and pulling her into him like she was oxygen and he was drowning. She moaned into his mouth, sliding her tongue over his and sucking on his lip until his deep familiar groan poured from his mouth. His hands slid roughly down her back and then he lifted her from the ground. She wrapped her legs around him as he carried her toward his dim bedroom with ease and dropped her on his bed. Pushing her back against the surface as he crawled over top of her – his lips never leaving hers as they desperately consumed her.

She traced her hands down his shirt to his belt, gasping beneath him as the heat surged through her center. She unbuckled it as he tore off his tie and then she moved her hands to the buttons along his shirt, undoing the remaining fastened ones as he shucked off his pants. His skin was burning, her fingers traced over the hard surface of his abs as she desperately tried to pull him closer. She groaned as he pressed his hard length against her and keened as his lips moved down her jaw to her neck. It was like no other touch she’d ever experienced. Each brush of his lips sent a wave of pleasure down her spine as she pushed up against him. She felt his hands move to her shorts and she lifted her hips so he could slide them down with her panties.

She kissed him so deeply she couldn’t breathe, each motion urgent, each touch heated and wanting – like they could not get enough of each other, like he was a drug and she was addicted. They couldn’t get close enough – she wanted to sink into him as they pressed against one another.

She arched her back in pleasure as his fingers slipped inside her and pressed up into the rough bundle of nerves that he seemed to be able to easily find. She groaned as he stroked her, grinding her hips against his hand as the tension in her center grew. She wanted more. She needed more. His thumb circled her clit and she gripped his open shirt tightly, tugging at it to bring him closer still. She moved her lips down his neck, sucking at the junction at his shoulder as he groaned. She slid her hand between them and gripped his hard cock tightly – he was so fucking stiff it made a sting of electricity shoot through her body.

Fuck she was wet – and she wanted him badly. She moved her hand over his velvet member, it was already slick with his pre-come and she knew that he wanted her too. He groaned against her neck and it made her desire flare. She traced her tongue up his neck to his ear, reveling in the delicious taste of him. Then she heard the words leave her mouth before she’d even thought twice about it.

“ _Please_ fuck me.”

She felt his body tremble above her as a deep groan escaped his chest. Then his lips were on hers, kissing her so fiercely she was lost to it. His fingers slipped out and she felt the head of his cock sliding through her slick folds. She tilted her hips for him and groaned into his mouth as he pushed into her.

_Fuck he’s so big._

Her mind blanked with the pleasure of him inside her body, the way he moved against her and made her feel like she was completely full and encapsulated. It was tight, it was addicting – it was perfect. She gripped him tightly, clinging to his shoulders as he fucked her deeply, his hand gripping her hip firmly as he rolled his hips into hers. With each deep thrust the coil in her center built, he was hitting her g-spot and her clit just like before but somehow this felt even better. It was the long deep thrusts – they were bliss and they were agony.

They panted against each other, gasping for air as they tried to consume one another. She arched into him, tracing her fingers down his back and lacing them into his hair – fully aware that it was Malfoy who was fucking her – and wanting it.

Loving it.

Needing it.

Her mind wasn’t blank - her brain was fully functional despite the liquor that lowered her inhibitions. She wanted to be here, she wanted to be under him and somehow it made every touch and every sensation that ran through her body even more excruciatingly delicious. She could _feel_ everything, and she never wanted it to stop. She pushed her hips up into his until her body started to tremble and she thought she was going to explode.

“Fuck,” she panted as she arched her back. “Oh _fuck_ – _oh_ my god!”

She came hard, white flashing over her vision as her voice caught and her mouth opened wide.

A loud throaty groan escaped her as he clutched her tightly and continued to drive into her. Waves of pleasure washed over her body as she tensed and gasped for air. His arms tensed around her and he groaned loudly. His body trembled, his orgasm shattering him as he grunted and clutched her tightly. She rolled her hips against him in bliss, drawing out his pleasure until he collapsed on top of her panting, his breath ghosting along her shoulder. She kept her arms wrapped loosely around him and this time – she didn’t push him away.

She knew it was him.

She knew what she’d done – what they’d done.

She fought the rising panic that radiated from her chest and she forced her mind to stay open. Forced herself not to stuff away the abundance of emotions that were washing through her. She lay there beneath him until their breathing evened out – until _he_ shifted first.

She felt her body tense instinctively, but she forced herself to remain as he propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her in the dim light. His hair was a mess, his open dress shirt was crinkled, and his eyes were hazy with lust and liquor like her own. He was fucking beautiful and she could feel the thought tug across her chest hard. She stared at him and swallowed. Completely unsure of what to do next. They’d never been here before. She’d never looked at him while he was _inside_ her.

They’d never done anything like _this._

She still didn’t know what she wanted. She’d acted on impulse and given into her drunken urge. She’d wanted him physically, yet she could not deny that his initial rejection had hurt her emotionally. She didn’t know what it all meant and she sure as hell had no idea what was going through _his_ head.

He was looking at her strangely as if he was confused that she’d not run away. Then gently, almost hesitantly, he brought his hand up to her face and traced his thumb along her cheek. She swallowed, her body trembling under his touch as his eyes traced over her face. Then slowly, he lowered his lips to hers and her eyes fluttered shut.

He kissed her.

It was cautious and slow, and she moved her lips against his gently as her heart fluttered like a rabbit’s in her chest.

When he pulled away, they breathed against each other nervously. She could see a stream of emotions starting to run behind his normally indifferent or angry eyes. Then something that looked confused – almost anguished - flicked past and he carefully pulled himself out of her and rolled onto his back to her right.

She licked her lips.

She tasted like him.

She forced herself to breathe.

She smelled like him.

It was overwhelming. She could feel her drunken mind spinning as her body trembled. Swallowing uneasily, she carefully pulled herself up, summoning her shorts and sliding them on before she leaned back against his headboard and silently vanished his mess from inside her body. She was terrified and riddled with panic, but she refused to leave – she refused to prove him right or fall back into her old habits. She didn’t want to make things worse and cube up. She wanted to fix things – but she didn’t understand the look she’d seen in his eyes – was he upset?

He’d done the same as her and was now leaning against the headboard beside her in his boxers with his crinkled dress shirt still hanging off his shoulders.

“Why didn’t you?” she said quietly her hazy eyes moving to him nervously. Maybe there was a reason why he’d rejected her in the first place – and maybe he regretted it now.

“Why didn’t I what?” he asked, his voice was thick from their activities and his face was flushed as he turned to look at her.

Her jaw tightened in nervous anticipation before she spoke. “A-After we danced – why didn’t you do anything.”

“Why didn’t you?” his voice was low and he was looking at her tightly.

“I – I don’t know,” she said quietly, feeling her stomach knotting with nerves. What was going on – why was he looking at her like that? Why did he seem so upset?

A long silence stretched between them as her panic continued to rise.

“I don’t know what you want,” he said finally. His voice was tight, quiet and strained.

“Wha–?”

“With any of this,” he cut her off, his hazy eyes getting harder as he looked at her. He looked like he was getting angry. “You bury _everything_ and I don’t –”

He hesitated, his jaw clenching tight as he stared at her. She felt her chest tighten as the air grew thick around them. She wanted to run.

“You don’t what?” she forced herself to ask, desperately fighting the panic in her chest and trying to keep her voice level, even though on the inside she felt like she was dying. Nervously she ran her hand through her hair, propping her elbow against the knee that she’d drawn up to her chest and leaning her head into her hand. She was fighting every instinct in her body and it was harder than she ever thought fucking possible. She could feel tension creeping up her neck as she gripped her own hair tightly. She didn’t notice that her loose-fitting sleeve had slid down her arm.

At least not until Malfoy’s eyes locked to it.

His entire body went still, he stopped breathing and a strange tight expression crossed his face.

Hermione’s brow furrowed in confusion at the sight and she turned to look at her arm. Then she froze. Her heart stuttering painfully in her chest as the panic she’d been fighting consumed her body. She couldn’t breathe. Her eyes went wide and she moved to cover-up her arm and hide the horrible letters – but Malfoy was faster.

His hand darted out between them. He grabbed her wrist, turning her forearm over as a look of burning rage crossed his face.

“Malfoy _stop_!” she screamed at him as she fought to tear her arm away from him.

He easily combatted her efforts, moving to his knees, one leg wedged between her own as he yanked her arm towards him and pushed the entire sleeve up her arm in one swift movement. She could feel her chest constrict as his shaking hand grazed over the letters.

He’d never seen this scar.

Surely he knew that she had it, maybe, but he’d never _seen_ it. He’d never seen how bad it was. He probably didn’t know just how deep the letters were carved – just how red and angry they always looked. She hid it. Always. Constantly. She never let _anyone_ see it and he was probably the last person in the world that she’d ever wanted to show it to.

“ _STOP!_ Malfoy – STOP!” she strained against him as her voice rose to a panicked desperate shriek. “I DON’T WANT YOU TO SEE IT!”

“I _SAW_ YOU GET IT!” he yelled back at her, his voice breaking with anger as he continued to grip her wrist tightly.

Hermione’s eyes went wide with horror as his shaking left hand moved from the letters on her forearm to the collar of her loose-fitting shirt.

She was going to be sick.

She grabbed his wrist, but she stood no chance at preventing him from pulling down the fabric that sat high on her neck and exposing the jagged red line that cut across the base of her throat where his aunt had cut her. She froze, her entire body shaking as his thumb touched the skin and her eyes locked to his face. She could see pain splitting through his eyes as he looked at the mark before they flicked back to meet her gaze and he glared at her with rage.

“Or have you forgotten that I stood there WATCHING while you _SCREAMED_ on my fucking floor!! Did you forget that I did _NOTHING_!” he yanked her arm up before her, his voice enraged with tones of disgust. “ _THIS_ is what I don’t understand! _How_ can you even let me _touch_ you?!”

Anger erupted from her chest and she shoved against him. “I KNOW WHAT _HAPPENED_ – I WAS FUCKING THERE!”

“And yet you _STILL_ let me fuck you!” his face contorted into something anguished. “What the _fuck_ Granger?!”

“What do you want me to say Malfoy?! That I _regret_ fucking you?! I _ALREADY_ told you that I don’t!” she was screaming in his face now and clutching his arm so tightly that her fingernails had sunken into his skin. “Why are you so fucking angry!? Do _you_ regret it – are you _angry_ that we fucked?!”

“I’M ANGRY THAT I STOOD THERE!” he yelled as his grip tightened on her left wrist. “ _How_ can you even _stomach_ being around me – let alone let me _fuck_ you?! What were you thinking Granger?! Did you fucking box this up too and that’s why you don’t care?!”

Hermione stilled, her body growing cold with a rage that sat so deep in her chest that she felt like she’d been plunged into ice. She wrenched her hand from his grasp and shoved him away harder than she’d ever pushed anything in her life. Her palms collided with his chest, making a deep hollow thudding noise that echoed through the room – the impact so hard it would surely leave a deep bruise.

“Is that what you think I did?” she said darkly, her voice was low and wavering as she kneeled on the bed before him, her body trembling with rage. He’d fallen back onto his elbows and he was glaring up at her. “You think I fucking boxed up the fact that you were there that night – that the _only_ reason I’d fuck you is because I’d shut out all of my past emotions for you?!”

Malfoy didn’t say anything, he just pushed himself back up from the bed and continued to glare at her.

“Well I DIDN’T!” she screamed, her voice piercing so loudly that he flinched. “The only fucking thing I blocked out from that night was the PAIN! _How_ could you even think that! I’ve _NEVER_ blocked out my emotions for you from back in the war!!”

“What?!” his face twisted into confusion. “Then why did you –“

“I DON’T KNOW!” she yelled at him. “I wasn’t _thinking_ the first time that it happened. I don’t even know _what_ happened – it just fucking happened! But _FUCK_ Malfoy – I don’t _blame_ you for what happened during the war – and it has _nothing_ to do with my fucking occlumency! I forgave you for all the shit that happened in school _and_ the war _YEARS_ ago!!”

She was panting now, her fists curled into tight balls at her sides as she raged at him.

“ _You_ _what_?” his voice was hoarse even though he hadn’t been the one yelling.

“I _forgave_ you _years_ ago,” she panted, her voice strained and tense. Her mind was raged with emotions – yet somehow, despite the screaming, the shoving, the chaos and the anger she suddenly felt like something was starting to make sense. “I _never_ hated you because of what happened in the past – I _hated_ you because you were a fucking _dick_ to me when we started working together. I’d _never_ blocked out my emotions for you, not until the day we fucked – and I only did it then because I couldn’t understand what’d happened and I needed to _work_ with you – but _THAT_ was the _FIRST_ cube that I unpacked last week!!”

His head was shaking as he stared at her, like he could not believe what she was saying. Her ears were ringing from her earlier screaming and her mind felt like a fucking disaster. She took a deep breath, forcing her voice lower and sinking back on her heels.

“I’d _wanted_ to start over,” she said more quietly, her face tight. “When I came to your office to give you that first folder, I was hoping that we could work _together_.”

“Why the fuck would you forgive me,” his voice sounded broken. “I _tormented_ you – I treated you like fucking trash and I did _nothing_ while my demented aunt carved you like a fucking pumpkin on my floor.”

Hermione grimaced, her brow furrowing at the look on his face.

“You were just a kid Malfoy – a fucking _kid_! There was nothing that you could have done.”

He clenched his jaw. “There were _a lot_ of things I _could_ have done.”

“There were a lot of things that _a lot_ of people could have done differently – _should_ have done differently, but war isn’t that simple. If you’d have said anything that night you would have been on the floor right there next to me,” Hermione said quietly. She couldn’t stop looking at the expression on his face, it was like nothing she’d ever seen before. He looked hurt. Broken. It was like she could see years of regret plastered across every inch of him. “I’m not an idiot Malfoy – back then I knew how things worked in that circle – I wasn’t expecting anyone to do anything. Death Eaters didn’t hesitate to torture their own. I – I don’t blame you for what happened, it wasn’t your fault – you were just keeping your family alive.”

Malfoy snorted, his mouth tightening into a grim line. “Yeah right – like they fucking deserved it.”

  
Hermione felt her face falter as a sudden thought popped into her muddled head and she frowned, her voice hesitant. “When – when I showed up in your office that day – did you think I hated you because of what happened?”

Malfoy’s jaw twitched and he glanced away. She could see his body grow tense.

“Is _that_ why you wrote those horrible comments?”

“The content of those comments was valid,” Malfoy said tightly, his jaw still clenched but he met her gaze once more.

“ _Yes_ ,” Hermione said as her jaw clenched tight with irritation. She strained against her natural instincts to slap him and forced herself to breathe. “But you _wrote_ them like a _dick_. Did you do that because you were angry – because you thought I _hated_ you?”

 _"That_ was a stupid mistake,” he said tightly, his jaw still clenched. He seemed to be fighting back his anger and confusion. She didn’t know what was going on in his head but his confliction was obvious. “There were – other things that were going on that day. I’d just come from another meeting and I was irritated before you even came into my office. I used your report as an outlet and I shouldn’t have done that – but it was a shit proposal Granger – _but_ I didn’t know what was going on in your department until later. I didn’t realize that your boss was fucking ploughing you into the ground – but _you_ readily assumed that _I_ still hated you and then you bloody didn’t hesitate to unleash your wrath on me afterwards.

“So I thought I was right – I thought you still hated me for everything and then I was a dick about it because I was bitter – because I _know_ that I _deserve_ it," his eyes grew tighter, the pain radiating out from them like agony. "Because _every_ time I saw _you_ it was like seeing my greatest failures standing in front of my fucking eyes – like a constant reminder of all my worst fucking mistakes – a reminder that I unquestionably handled poorly, but one that I deserved! Because I know that there is _NOTHING_ I can _ever_ do to take back what I _did_ to you Granger!”

Hermione swallowed, the harsh silence ringing out between them as her eyes dropped to her knees. His assumption wasn’t entirely wrong. Her attempt at trying to turn a new leaf with him had been halfhearted at best. She’d thought that she’d moved on, that she’d moved past everything but clearly, she hadn’t. He’d been right with what he’d said in Neville’s garden last weekend – she _was_ carrying baggage around with her. She’d shut herself down emotionally and disassociated herself from difficult situations, never fully processing the trauma of what had happened and then reverting back to old assumptions because it was easier.

She _did_ forgive Malfoy for what happened in the past – for everything – but she’d done nothing to change her perception of him and little to change her behaviour toward him. So her forgiveness hadn’t been apparent and she doubted that he would have believed her anyway. She didn’t bother to get to know him, she never tried to have a conversation with him. She didn’t _know_ who he was. She just assumed she knew his motivations and his goals based on outdated information – she assumed he still hated muggles and thought himself better than everyone else.

She’d fallen back into her old habits, her old behaviours and she’d readily sparred with him just like Ginny had said. She’d assumed the worst in him, then allowed him to be the outlet for all of her anger and frustrations because it was just so easy. Because it was easier than addressing the true problems – her misuse of occlumency, her department being utterly dysfunctional and in shambles.

Both of them had been operating under the assumption that the other still vehemently hated them, they’d lashed out, and then surprise-surprise – they’d wound up hating each other all over again because they were both so naturally hot headed, determined, and relentlessly defiant in their work efforts.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes flicking back to his.

“Don’t,” he said tightly.

His eyes radiating with pain from her words. His face constricted with agony and his jaw clenched hard.

“You deserve better – and I don’t – I’ve done nothing but–“ his voice was quiet and broken as he stared at her, gripping the duvet on each side of him tightly. “I don’t deserve you, this – any of this. I – we shouldn’t have – I _never_ should have touched you.”

She could see it now; it was clear as day.

He fucking hated himself.

He hated himself more than he’d ever hated her – more than he’d ever hated anything.

He hated himself probably more than _she_ hated _herself_ and he didn’t understand why she let him touch her. He was fighting between his apparent desire to want to touch her and his guilt over doing so. He was angry with her yes – but really, he was angry with himself. Every outburst eating away at him as he struggled to understand their dynamic, what the fuck was going on or what could possibly be going through her head. He didn’t understand what she wanted – what she was thinking. It was so painfully obvious now that his feelings for her were complicated, as was his life – a life she still knew absolutely nothing about.

She felt her heart break as everything started to click into place in her head and she realized that she didn’t truly have an answer for him.

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know what she was thinking. She didn’t know why she found him attractive, why his touch made her skin burn with desire or what the fuck was going on – but she knew that she wanted to find out. She knew that she was tired of running away from him, away from her life, from everything that she’d spent years blocking out.

She wanted to live – as a whole this time. With everything. All of it. Not as the fractured mess she’d turned herself into.

Without hesitating and fully aware of the fact that she had no idea what she was doing, and without fully understanding _why_ she was doing it – she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. She heard him exhale deeply as his entire body tensed. She traced her tongue across his bottom lip slowly as she brought her shaking arms around his shoulders. He sat stiffly under her touch. She could feel the resistance in his body as she gently grabbed his neck and pulled herself closer to him, his lips were barely moving against her.

She slid herself over his lap, straddling his hips and lowering herself slowly to sit on top of him. She heard his hands fisting in the duvet on either side of them as his back went rigid. She placed a shaky hand against his warm bare chest and traced her thumb over his skin. He was fighting against his body, she could feel the tension shifting in his muscles as he forced himself to remain still beneath her – but when she threaded her opposite hand into his hair and lightly tightened her grip he finally relented. She heard him groan from deep within his chest.

His mouth opened and he traced his tongue over hers, the movement was slow and languished like he was memorizing the shape of her mouth. She pushed him back against the headboard and sank low on his hips, feeling him against her center. She traced her fingers gently along his shoulders and then slid his open shirt down his arms. Without hesitating she dropped her hands to her waist and pulled her own shirt over her head, tossing it to the side, and capturing his lips once more in a slow and languished kiss. She dragged her fingers across his skin and he shivered under her touch as she rocked against him gently. She could feel him growing hard beneath his boxers and when she ground herself more firmly on his cock he groaned deeply once more.

He released his death grip on the duvet and his hands slid over her body. One moving up her chest to palm her breast as the other moved down her thigh in a tantalizing motion. She dropped her hands to his boxers, grabbed them firmly and then shifted herself so she could tug them down his legs. He watched her as she moved above him, his hands gliding across her body to her waist, his thumbs dropping under the band of her shorts before he slid them down her hips. She kicked them down her legs and then crawled back onto his lap, settling herself against his bare cock and feeling her heart flutter. She kissed him again, slowly, tracing her tongue along his and moaning as he gently rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She was wet, and he was incredibly hard.

She lifted her hips and aligned herself with his stiff length, her half-lidded eyes caught his and she held his gaze. Her hand tangled in his hair firmly as his hands gripped her hips and she lowered herself. She felt her breath hitch as his rigid cock filled her, she watched the pleasure strain across his face as his grip on her tightened and he held her gaze with an unreadable expression. She spread her legs wide, sinking deep and groaning as the tight feeling of his cock embedded within her made her body shiver. She rocked against him, his hands pulling her down so he could press up into her deeper. He ran a hand up her back, his fingers burning along her spine until they threaded into the hair at the back of her head. His lips moved to her jaw, and he placed hot open-mouthed kisses across her skin, moving his way down the length of her neck as she groaned and ground herself against him.

She could feel the pressure building within her once more but this time, somehow, it felt so different. This wasn’t angry fucking, this wasn’t fucking at all – this was something else entirely.

Gripping his shoulders tightly she dropped her forehead to his and moved her hips more quickly. She kissed him again, trailing her lips across his jaw until she reached the lobe of his ear and she took it in her mouth. He groaned and rolled up into her harder, his hands gripping her tight, bracing her back and neck. He pulled her down deeper, harder, his ragged breath catching in her ear and making it feel like electricity was coursing through her. With each roll of her hips the wave built within her and she grew more desperate for release.

She pushed herself down, her thighs spreading wider, a low moan pouring from her mouth as her body started to tremble. His lips were on hers; she could feel his urgency, he was just as desperate and he was so close – she could feel him growing impossibly hard inside her. She tangled her hands in his hair and he pulled her flush against his body. The heat of his skin burned against hers as he pushed up into her with each grind of her hips, moving together like one entity as their groans filled the air.

Her breath became ragged with his, her grip on his neck and hair growing tighter as she felt the coil within her snap. She cried out, her loud moan filling the room and echoing around them as Malfoy’s breath caught and he groaned in release. Bliss radiated through her as shockwaves coursed through her body. His hands moved across her skin desperately, like he was afraid to let her go. She felt the pressure of his release filling her channel. His lips crushed against hers as his hands roved her body and he devoured her moans as she rode out her orgasm and shook in his arms. He held her tighter than humanly possible as she clung to him, breathing him in and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure ran through her.

She didn’t know how long she sat there straddled across his hips, his cock embedded within her as they gripped each other tightly. Or how long he continued to touch her body and move his lips over hers – but it felt like time had ceased to exist and she lost herself to him. She didn’t remember at what point she’d climbed off of him, or when she’d decided to move under the duvet, or how long she’d kissed him deeply as she laid curled in his arms – she just knew that her heart suddenly felt tremendously less heavy and her body felt exhausted.

-x-x-

Hermione woke to the dull ringing of her morning alarm sounding in her head. Her body was heavy, like somehow, she suddenly weighed more than she should. She felt so impossibly comfortable and warm. She flexed her toes and let out a heavy sigh, forcing her eyes to open and taking in her unfamiliar surroundings.

 _Ahh righhttt_.

She blinked and shifted her eyes to her right, spotting the culprit for the reason why she felt so warm and why her body felt so heavy. Malfoy’s face was curled into her shoulder, and his arm and leg were strewn across her body, pinning her to the bed as he clutched her tightly to his chest. Apparently, he was a side sleeper and for reasons she would never be able to understand – he seemed to have no issues sleeping with his face buried in her hair.

She felt the familiar tug across her chest that instinctively told her to bolt as her body started to grow tense and she frowned at herself.

_Stop._

She could feel it spreading across her shoulders almost like an allergic reaction to _feelings_ themselves or trauma or anything difficult for that matter.

 _FUCKING STOP_.

She clenched her jaw and took in a deep breath, forcing her shoulders back into the soft mattress to try and relieve some of the tension from her body. This – she knew – was going to be an immensely difficult habit to break. She’d allowed her body to do this for years, she’d formed a habit and now she was suddenly asking it to go against its nature. Much like trying to quit smoking cold turkey. It was fucking hard.

“You can go if you want to,” his low raspy morning voice sounded next to her head and her eyes flicked toward him.

He seemed to have a knack for being awake yet allowing his body to remain completely still, limp and relaxed as if he were still sleeping. She knew he was referring to what had happened the last time they’d fallen asleep together and she’d tried to sneak away – he wasn’t going to stop her this time. His hold, while heavy and tight, had a distinct looseness to it and she knew she could slip out from under him if she wanted to.

“It’s just reflex,” she said quietly, taking another slow breath and feeling a small amount of the tension ease from her body. She was still nervous, she was still confused, her mind felt heavy with complicated emotions and she had no idea what to make of what had happened between them last night. But even then, she found herself say. “I don’t want to go.”

It was the truth.

She felt a finger from his hand on her side twitch.

Though she also didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know where to start and apparently, he didn’t either. Silence stretched out between them as they continued to lay there until Hermione’s second alarm went off twenty minutes later.

“I have to go get ready,” she said quietly before she started to shift herself out from under his limbs.

He grunted in response and slid his leg and arm off of her so she could move away more easily. Though he continued to lay there unmoving after rolling onto his stomach, his face buried in the pillows as she collected her clothes from the ground and made her way through the sitting room and back to her own suite.

It was an incredibly odd way to start the day – but she continued to force herself to remain calm as she got ready. She didn’t have time to think about what had happened or to discuss it with him. She showered, did her hair and her makeup and then put on her new rich green dress robes. She had a funny feeling that Malfoy’s tie was probably going to match.

It did.

She met him in the hall at 10:00am as they’d planned the day before, feeling an awkward blush creep over her face as they walked down the hall together in silence. He looked almost the same – almost typical Malfoy, and yet he was entirely different. She was entirely different – _they_ were entirely different. The shift in the atmosphere between them was colossal – it was monumental, like another great world wonder. She could feel it. It was still tense, still confused, still laced with hints of anger – but now it was also calm, deep, layered, passionate and something else undefined.

Though neither one of them said anything.

What did one say after an explosion like last night? It had single handedly shattered anything she’d thought she’d known about the man and it had left her feeling both heart broken and mended all at once. He’d let her see him vulnerable – he’d told her that he hated himself, that he thought that he deserved everything horrible in the world and that he didn’t deserve her. That he shouldn’t have touched her – she knew now that that was why he’d let her go after they’d danced. Because he was confused about what was going on and he was trying to control himself.

Yet acknowledging this meant that she had to acknowledge that some part of him wanted her. She just didn’t know in what way or to what extent.

She also didn’t doubt that her breakdown after the previous time they’d fucked had sent him for a loop. He’d probably thought that a lot of the emotions and memories that flooded her mind were about him – that the panic attack had been his fault. In a way it sort of was, but not for the reasons that he had thought. She hadn’t lied last night. She’d never blocked out her past memories of him – she’d only blocked out the hate fucking and snogging because she did not know how to process it and even then, she’d only blocked out the emotions – not the memories.

She bit her lip as she stood beside him in the elevator, a bizarre tingling sensation creeping over her skin.

Where did they go from here?

What had happened after their explosion last night was not fucking – and she couldn’t even make herself say what it was. At the end of the day she wasn’t sure that it mattered what she called it when she still didn’t know what she wanted. She still wasn’t sure how she felt. She understood the anger, the hatred – she understood how they’d got to the hate fucking and she even understood how they’d gotten to where they were now.

But what next?

In what way did he want her? Was he attracted to her? Did he find her desirable and he’d simply fought against it because he thought he didn’t deserve her? What did _Malfoy_ want?

From the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, the way he – she cut off her thoughts in her mind as a blush crept up her neck. It was clear he wanted her in more ways than just hate fucking or angry sex but right now was not the time to think of it. She needed to remain calm and get through the day. She needed to implement all of the advice he’d given her and prove that she could do this. Their personal drama might be a fucking mess, but they still had a bloody conference to get through or they’d both be jobless.

Following Malfoy through the elevator she made her way to the large conference room which had been set-up for brunch.

(to be continued…)

-x-x-


	12. Hemlock and Shrivelfigs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – stuck together for five days… things are bound to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

_From the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, the way he – she cut off her thoughts in her mind as a blush crept up her neck. It was clear he wanted her in more ways than just hate fucking or angry sex but right now was not the time to think of it. She needed to remain calm and get through the day. She needed to implement all of the advice he’d given her and prove that she could do this. Their personal drama might be a fucking mess, but they still had a bloody conference to get through or they’d both be jobless._

_Following Malfoy through the elevator she made her way to the large conference room which had been set-up for brunch…_

Brunch proved to be exhausting.

She sat next to Malfoy on his left, waiting to see what cutlery he used and what he used it for before touching anything herself. It made eating awkward and slow as she desperately tried to keep herself calm, polite, relaxed, yet strong and confident – but not too bitchy – _and_ poised. She felt like she’d been thrown into the ocean during a storm and told to swim. She was trying to do a thousand things at once all while keeping her chin up, hands and elbows off the table and her spine ramrod straight with her shoulders back.

She could see Malfoy doing it all from the corner of her eye – _perfectly._

He moved in a way that her brain could not seem to understand. He was so elegant it was both beautiful and painful to watch and somehow – while doing it all perfectly, he still managed to gently nudge her foot under the table to stop her before she made a mistake. Each time the contact made her heart flutter and she did her best to fight the nervousness that was growing in the pit of her stomach. She knew that Malfoy was being polite and cordial because they were both in public – but she could not help but feel like his foot nudges were gentle, he seemed almost _calmer_ and he didn’t give her any angry side glares or whisper any rude comments throughout the whole meal.

It was odd, and it made her feel strange.

Was this what he was like when he didn’t _hate_ someone? It was almost pleasant – except that she couldn’t help but feel that there was an underlying sadness to his demeanor.

She’d even managed to have a somewhat pleasant conversation with the older woman on her left who was named Agatha – the woman had asked about Hermione’s job and if she was still friends with Harry Potter. Hermione noticed that when their conversation drifted to that topic several people around them suddenly seemed interested in her – like they suddenly realized who she was. So she did her best to keep her replies smooth and polite – but also short. She wasn’t interesting in giving out information about Harry which could become gossip.

When brunch finally ended, she had to bite back an audible sigh of relief. She made to stand up only to feel Malfoy’s fingers brush her leg and she froze – her eyes darting to his. His brow lifted almost imperceptibly and then she noticed that the other women at the table were allowing the men they were with to pull out their chairs. So she stayed seated waited for him to do the same thing while fighting the urge to roll her eyes in annoyance.

She was capable of getting out of her own fucking chair – fucking rich twats.

After brunch she and Malfoy made their way to Room C, the first of many smaller group discussions that would take place throughout the day as they rotated through different conference rooms. She ignored the tingle she felt run down her spine as his hand pressed against her lower back and guided her down the hall. She could feel his arm brush against her side, and she fought to keep her attention focused when they took their seats at the large table.

The first discussion of the day revolved around the impact of using Hemlock for pest control, and it proved to be a rather difficult topic to address without offending anyone.

“Please forgive me for being so blunt – but I just don’t understand _why_ the Ministry has banned the substance in its entirety – Hemlock was used for decades prior with no negative impacts,” a fat man named Wilson said to her after she’d been asked to comment from the Ministry’s perspective.

“Well the substance is incredibly toxic,” Hermione said as she tried to keep her voice light and polite, knowing that the smile on her face was a little bit tight. “And unfortunately, during the time that it was used no studies were conducted, no monitoring was completed and thus it is not possible to factually state that there were _no negative_ impacts.”

The fat man’s eyes tightened as he looked at her. “So then _what_ was the premise of the ban even based on? If no studies were conducted how could the Ministry determine that the substance should not be used?”

“Because of Experiment 6-5-B conducted on March 2nd 1988,” Hermione felt her left hand tighten into the fabric of her dress robes under the table while she kept her right hand resting calmly on the surface. “Hemlock was tested on several magical creatures. In the best cases it proved toxic and the creatures became sick – in the worst cases it was lethal and the creatures died. Thus, the experiment proved that processed Hemlock – not natural Hemlock which while growing would be avoided by creatures, is dangerous and can drastically impact the species that exist near the crops on which the Hemlock is utilized. Despite what some papers have claimed the use of Hemlock does not _deter_ species from coming near the crops – it _kills_ them. Magical creatures don’t recognize the processed Hemlock the same way that they recognize naturally growing Hemlock. They don’t know to avoid it – they either inhale it or digest it and then they are poisoned.”

“Hah,” Wilson scoffed at her. “Unsurprising that the Ministry’s Department of Magical Creatures would conduct a barbaric experiment simply to gather information – killing innocent creatures is acceptable provided that it is for _research_ I see.”

Hermione’s back stiffened and she saw Malfoy shift beside her from the corner of her gaze.

“I’m sorry Mr. Wilson but it seems that there has been a misunderstanding,” Hermione said as she put on the most pleasant smile she could muster while keeping her voice level and polite. “Experiment 6-5-B was not conducted by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures – nor was it completed by the Ministry. It was conducted by the Herbology Association and the findings were published in a research journal and made available worldwide. The intent of the experiment – as per the stated summary hypothesis – was to determine the lowest concentration of processed Hemlock required to be lethal per creature. Thus, allowing greenhouses to save money on the purchase of processed Hemlock as they would know specifically how much to apply to their crops in order to eliminate specific creatures that were causing them issues.”

Mr. Wilson’s face went purple and Hermione felt Malfoy nudge her foot under the table. Her chest tightened and she wondered if maybe she’d pushed it too far with her blunt response to the large man before her. She glanced to Malfoy quickly and saw him shift his eyes to the notepad before him. Fighting a confused expression, she followed his gaze and saw that his finger was gently tapping next to a note he’d somehow scribbled on the paper before him without moving his hand.

 _‘Dugbogs’_ – it was his elegant scrawl though she had no idea how he’d written. Or why.

Then her brain clicked – and she got it. She returned her eyes to the fat man before her, not losing more than a second from the entire silent exchange.

“There are, however, many other much more effective ways to deter pesky creatures from your crops,” Hermione said politely, a genuine smile forming on her lips as she held her head a little higher. “Hemlock – while effective, is a rather outdated approach that is extremely expensive, requires employees to handle dangerous chemicals, does irreparable damage to the surrounding ecosystem and requires frequent upkeep and application. Wards and charm work on the other hand, can provide a much more sophisticated long-term solution. They can be designed such that maintenance only needs to be completed every few years, they target only the specific pests that you wish to be rid of, and they are far less expensive.”

“Less _expensive_!” Mr. Wilson was clearly still upset with her previous comment. “Hah! How the bloody hell is it less expensive, no greenhouse has the capacity to develop those charm or install them. Do you have any idea how much it costs to have those completed?!”

Hermione smiled at him once more and carefully folded both of her hands across the table before her.

“Yes actually – I do – I recently completed a proposal to prevent Dugbogs from destroying Mandrake crops. With charms and wards the cost is almost entirely upfront – so you are correct Mr. Wilson, they are more expensive _initially_ but the payback period is typically less than five years. As part of the Dugbog proposal we looked at the cost of using Hemlock – identifying not only the cost of employing people to apply the substance but also the cost of growing the plants, processing them, the reapplication that is required every few months and the soil replacement that is required after utilizing Hemlock for extended periods of time. As I know you are all aware, overuse can result in the land becoming unfertile and the process to correct that is not only expensive but lengthy. I believe I read just this year that it can sometimes cost a greenhouse an entire growing season depending on the extent of the damage,” Hermione grabbed her quill from the table and scratched a few figures down on her notepad as she spoke. “As for the application of the charms and wards – once the initial design has been completed and tested a team of Class B charm applicators can complete the work, the process typically takes less than a day and the final product does not need to be inspected for at least three years. In some cases – depending on the crops, the creatures and how much upfront expense you are looking to incur – the wards can actually be designed to be self-monitoring. Thus, you don’t need to pay for a Class C charms team to come out and check them.

“A station can be installed near the greenhouse that will tell you the status and health of the charms and it will let you know when they need to be inspected – and in most cases this would not be for upwards of a decade as many warding charms are relatively straight forward and can be made quite permanent. We have even begun experimenting with creating wards that will self-adjust based on any changes to the creature’s genetics over time – thus they last even longer and require even less maintenance. That’s the beauty of a ward and charm approach, it can be modified depending on your requirements _and_ your budget – they can be as simple or as complex and robust as needed.”

Hermione’s finger tapped the page before her which had some rough numbers strewn across it.

“Now, per the contract we signed I cannot tell you the specifics of the design for the Dugbog wards as this is propriety information and the design was licensed directly by ‘Bennett GC Ltd.’ for use this year – but I _can_ tell you that based on my estimates after installation and taking into consideration the initial design cost you could expect to save anywhere from 15-80% on operating costs dependent on the crop. And if you need a more accurate margin on the savings before making a decision a preliminary study can be completed for a relatively low cost so that you don’t have to pay for a full design – the preliminary study provides you with a report outlining the design parameters and it will give you the estimated cost savings within a +/-10% accuracy.”

Hermione hadn’t realized that when she was speaking the entire room had gone silent and that all eyes were watching her intently. She hadn’t realized that her back had naturally straightened, that her chin had lifted higher, that her voice had sounded confident and that she had completely enthralled the entire room. They were looking at her differently – they were looking _to_ her and not _at_ her. There’d been a shift of power and she hadn’t even realized it.

Her eyes flicked around the table, looking to see if anyone had any questions and she found herself surprised to see over thirty pairs of eyes glued to her, with several mouths hanging visibly open.

“Is that 15-80% cost savings in the first year? Or overall?” it was Agatha who spoke, the small older witch who she’d sat beside for brunch.

“It’s 15-80% cost savings _every_ year,” Hermione said, not realizing the calm polite authority that rang in her voice. She noticed a few eyebrows arch in surprise.

“And the Ministry does this? They offer this as a purchasable service? What department completes the proposals?” it was an older grey-haired wizard across the table to her right that asked, but she did not know his name.

She felt Malfoy’s foot nudge hers under the table once more, but this time she didn’t need to look down at his page to know what he was trying to tell her.

“I do it,” Hermione said confidently, her eyes flicking over everyone’s gaze in the room. “It’s a service that _I_ offer, and it is purchasable through the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

She felt Malfoy’s warm hand on her thigh under the table, her heart fluttering at the contact as she bit back the shiver that ran up her spine when he gently squeezed her leg.

-x-x

The Hemlock group discussion ended with a swarm of people coming to speak to her. There were so many of them that Malfoy started accepting business cards for her and speaking to people on her behalf as she could not get to them all in the few free minutes that they had between discussions.

She had to apologize to half a dozen people who she’d not had time to talk to as Malfoy led her away to the next discussion group. She could feel his hand burning on her back through her dress robes as she shook the final wizard’s hands and accepted his business card. She didn’t even have time to process what had happened or to say anything to Malfoy before he steered her into Room B where they took their seats for a discussion on the supply and distribution efforts to apothecaries for potion ingredients. It was in this room that she started to understand why so many of the people here knew Malfoy, and she began to realize what it was that he’d been doing since the war.

Malfoy owned an enormous number of patents on potions, and as it turned out – many of them he’d created himself.

He also owned several large apothecaries that he used to prevent market price gouging by maintaining a fair low price on key staple potions that should be made easily available to everyone. It forced private shops to keep their prices fair. Things like Skelegrow, Pepperup, Draught of Peace and even Wolfsbane potion were kept priced just high enough to maintain minimal profit gain.

Whereas unnecessary things like Amortenia, hair care products and Laugh potion were priced higher based on market demand. He was the sole supplier to St. Mungo’s and he also dealt in shipping and ingredient storage.

Hermione sat in awe at the table as she watched him answer questions, hash out problems and make suggestions for how the greenhouses could better coordinate their growing efforts with the market demand. She’d never seen anything like it. He was like a machine – he never faltered, he never came up short for an answer and his impeccable manners and poise never shook. He looked powerful – yet completely controlled and Hermione found that she could not look away from him. It was enthralling and it made something inside her stir.

“I don’t understand why the apothecaries refuse to accept the Shrivelfigs if they cannot be delivered within one week of picking,” the birdlike lady that Bennett had gone to speak with said to Malfoy with distress. She looked agitated and annoyed. “Harvesting them takes _time_ and by the time we have enough ready to ship the earlier ones that we have picked are about a week old. It’s not cost effective! This year we estimate that 25% of our product will be wasted – Shrivelfigs are good up until after 2 months of being picked – so why aren’t they taking them?!”

“They’re no longer accepting them because a recent study showed that prepping a Shrivelfig for storage within precisely five days of picking will extend their shelf-life another eight months,” Malfoy said calmly. “This helps the apothecaries to better manage their stock over the winter while the plant is no longer in bloom.”

“What?! When was this published?!” the birdlike lady seemed even more agitated by this.

“It was published two months ago, and the apothecaries are hoping to use the technique for this upcoming crop,” Malfoy replied, keeping his voice even despite the lady’s growing frustrations.

“This is absurd – it’s just a study, how can they even be sure? Who published it?” her hand was clutching her quill tightly.

“I did,” Malfoy said indifferently as if hoping to skip over the topic.

Hermione had to clench her jaw to stop herself from gaping. When the fuck did he have time to complete research?! And better yet – if he was _this_ interested in potions then why was he wasting his time at the Ministry as the head of M-PaS? Based on the data she’d gathered today regarding his businesses he certainly didn’t need the money.

It didn’t make any sense.

“I understand that picking the Shrivelfigs takes time,” Malfoy continued without missing a beat. “With the process that you have in place right now even if you shipped them individually immediately after picking the earliest that you’d be able to get the product to the apothecaries is three days later – leaving only two days for prep. What we need to do is completely change the process – the picking, the packaging and the shipping.”

“But Shrivelfig picking hasn’t changed in centuries,” the birdlike lady said. “And it hasn’t changed for a reason – if you are not careful the fruit will be damaged and then it is useless!”

“Yes,” Malfoy said slowly. “But charm work has changed over the last few centuries – I’m proposing that you consider implementing the _Mani-Tener_ charm. I’ve ran several tests and using the charm will not increase your pick failure rate – if anything it will decrease it. What it will do is increase your frequency by 85%. Thus, it will reduce your picking duration to three weeks and if you increase your shipping frequency to every two days during those three weeks you will be able to distribute all of the Shrivelfigs within a two day window of picking – which will give the apothecaries an additional day to prep the ingredient in the five day window. Now that is assuming that the crops are grown in sequenced batches such that they are all ripe within that three week time frame. This year will still be a challenge as your Shrivelfig plants have been grown in groups timed for a five and a half week picking season. So unfortunately, you will need to heavily rely on shipping alterations for this season if you want to get your full crop out – which can be accomplished if you alter your shipping to occur every 4 days, which is the most effective balance between shipping costs while still allowing the apothecaries a day to process the Shrivelfigs.”

“At what cost?” the lady said hotly. “Additional shipping is _not_ cost effective!”

“You increase the cost of the product,” Malfoy said calmly. “The apothecaries are willing to pay more for an ingredient that is of more use to them – talk to them and let them know that it can be accomplished this year but they will only have one day to process so they can prepare and increase their staff. Implement a 6% product price hike this year since the process will not be properly established and the shipping arrangements will be last minute, thus it will cost more. You will still turn a small profit and it will save you the loss from 25% of your product being thrown out. Make the changes required for next year’s growing season and you will be able to cover the additional shipping costs by implementing a permanent price increase of 2.5% – which I can confirm the apothecaries will be willing to pay if it means consistently getting the Shrivelfigs within two days.”

The birdlike lady looked at him hotly. Hermione could see other people around the table nodding in understanding, but this lady seemed to be slower on the math.

“Fine,” she said tightly when the man beside her slid a paper before her. “I’ll be in touch with you regarding shipping.”

-x-x-

The rest of the day continued in a similar fashion. Malfoy escorted her from room to room as they spoke to countless numbers of people, they both answered questions in the discussion groups, and they helped greenhouse owners resolve their problems where they could. The day remained so busy that she did not get a single moment to say anything to him discretely.

It became painfully clear to Hermione during the late afternoon snacks and tea that Herbologists were fucking terrible at anything other than growing plants and businessmen really didn’t know much aside from business. They were so incredibly dependent on people like Malfoy, the few other technical people that she saw – and now her – to tell them what they needed to know so that they could figure out what to do and how to do it. It was absurd to think that these people ran the industry when they didn’t even know about the _Mani-Tener_ charm. Yet apparently this insane chaos was the real world and it left her with a lot of questions.

When the evening grew late and it was finally time for the formal dinner on the rooftop Hermione felt exhausted. Her jaw hurt from speaking so much, her back hurt from sitting so straight, her patience with stupid people was wearing thin – and yet, she felt a little proud of herself. Everyone was given twenty minutes to change for dinner and she was surprised to find that people had continued to speak to her and Malfoy as he directed them to the elevators. And since everyone was leaving at the same time, she still wasn’t able to speak to Malfoy privately. They ended up sharing an elevator with Agatha and the grey-haired man from the Hemlock room and continued polite conversation for the entire ride.

It was odd to stand so close to him in the small elevator with other people there – she had too because the space was so small – yet it felt intimate being pressed into his side, which felt awkward while talking to the friendly older lady. Though Malfoy seemed completely at ease, speaking to the grey-haired man across from them as he gripped the rail behind her. She could feel the heat of him on her side and against her back anytime she accidentally leaned backward. She tried not to think of it as meaning anything – after all Agatha and the grey-haired man where standing rather close as well. Though Malfoy made no indication of moving to create space after the grey-haired man got off on the floor below them.

“I will see you at dinner dear!” Agatha called as she made her way in the opposite direction down the hall on their floor.

Malfoy had been right yet again – you never did know who was on your floor and she felt suddenly grateful that he’d been quick to silence her yelling and stop her from ripping off her heels. She fought back a blush at the memory, it felt like a foolish thing to have done now.

“Yes, see you there,” Hermione smiled at the woman, falling into step with Malfoy as he guided her the opposite way down the hall. His hand pressed against her lower back and she wondered if it was just for _appearances._

“I’ll see you in fifteen minutes,” he said quietly, clearly keenly aware that Agatha was still making her way down the hall.

Hermione nodded at him, hesitating a moment at her door before finally pushing inside. She’d wanted to talk to him. She wanted to know what he thought – if she’d done okay today, not to mention the hundreds of other questions that rattled in her brain. Though she knew that they would have to talk later and even though she was anxious to speak with him she was also terrified. She didn’t know what was going to happen or what she might say to _his_ questions.

She moved to her bedroom quickly, kicking off her _‘day’_ heels and grabbing her tall black stilettos and her long black evening gown as per Ginny’s instructions. She recast her glamours, strapped her wand to her calf, put on the snug fitting dress and then quickly began fixing her hair and makeup. Ginny had instructed her to clip her hair up tonight so that her exposed back would show, so that’s what she did, using the spells that Ginny had taught her to hold her unruly curls in place in a messy up-do. Just when she’d put her heels on, she heard a knock on her door. She frowned, checking her timer to confirm that she still had just over a minute left – then she realized that the knock had come from the door _between_ their rooms.

She hesitated, nerves exploding in her stomach before she moved to it and gently pulled it open.

Malfoy was standing before her in a classic and fitted black suit, white shirt and black tie. He looked – like always, unreasonably handsome.

“Yes?” she noticed that her voice wasn’t tight with annoyance like it usually would have been. If anything, it sounded a bit nervous.

“You did well today Granger,” he said quietly. She could see a strange mix of emotions cross his eyes as he took in her appearance, but he kept his feet planted firmly on his side of the door.

“Thank you,” she nearly whispered.

They stared at each other in silence and Hermione felt her chest constricting as her breath caught in her throat – then her timer went off and nearly startled her half to death. He must have had his own timer set because his face became impassive and he handed her the business cards that he’d collected for her that morning. She took them, her hand freezing as their fingers brushed and she looked up to him slowly. Their eyes locked and she felt a blush creep up her neck.

“Dinner will be just like brunch,” he said almost awkwardly after he’d cleared his throat. He pulled his hand away and stepped back from the door. “I’ll meet you in the hall.”

-x-x-

Dinner _was_ just like brunch – except that it was outside under the starry night sky, it was lit by numerous floating flames that gave off heat, it had a small orchestra playing, it started with a speech made by Bennett, it had three full courses, and everyone was drinking heavily. Which seemed to be thoroughly encouraged by the servers _and_ Bennett himself.

In an odd way, dinner was almost easier than brunch for that very reason. Everyone had been sober at brunch while now it was the complete opposite and people were less likely to notice any mistakes. That said, Hermione used what she’d learned from the morning and Malfoy only had to stop her from using the wrong cutlery twice throughout the entire meal. Though each time his foot nudged hers her heart fluttered, she felt the warmth of the liquor she’d drank flood through her body and she struggled to keep her mind on task as she politely spoke to the people around them.

Hermione had once again found herself seated between Malfoy and Agatha, and for the latter she was grateful. The older woman was friendly enough and as it turned out, particularly funny after she’d had a few drinks.

Agatha distracted her with stories from her youth – one that involved a stolen snitch, one that involved a bewitched pair of panties and one that involved an unrequited love for a centaur. Hermione wasn’t sure if the stories were entirely appropriate for a formal dinner and she noticed that Malfoy had cast a silencing bubble around the two of them, though Agatha seemed not to care and was willing to share the amusing tales of her youth with whoever would listen. As it turned out – small silencing bubbles were _typical_ by the time the third course came out. Almost half the witches and wizards at the table had cast them so that they could have private drunken conversations.

When dinner finally ended, everyone was corralled over to the bar area, the waiters vanished the long tables and chairs and replaced them with several round high-top tables. Then people began mulling around and chatting very similarly to the opening ceremony. Hermione allowed Malfoy to guide her around the large open space, his hand on her back the entire time as they spoke to several new people and traded their empty glasses for full ones brought by the waiters. After an hour of heavy socializing the atmosphere seemed to shift, people broke off into smaller groups to have heated discussions while others glued themselves to the bar and began drinking heavily.

After speaking with another older gentlemen and taking his card Hermione followed Malfoy to the quiet outer edge of the rooftop, he’d selected a place away from the other small groups of people and she watched as he leaned back against the railing that framed the open space. Without saying a word, she moved to stand next to him, leaving mere inches between them and leaning forward on the rail at his side as she took a drink of her brandy.

He watched the people mulling about the rooftop as she stared out to the darkened landscape below. Silence rang heavy between them for several long minutes before she spoke.

“You completed an apprenticeship in potions after the war – didn’t you?” Hermione asked him, her hand tracing along the glass in her hands absently. One of the charmed open flame heaters radiated behind her, casting waves of heat along her exposed back yet she still felt herself shiver when she flicked her gaze to him. He was so impeccably perfect, even when he was leaning casually with his elbows propped on a railing – though his eyes looked slightly sad, almost distant. Almost like he had expected her to start asking questions – almost like he was sort of dreading it.

“Yes,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking down and locking to the glass that he held in his hands. Despite there being only an inch between them, she’d felt him cast a silencing ward around them the second they’d leaned against the rail. She could hear the other guests moving around the large rooftop behind them, and she knew that a good number of them were in their own silencing bubbles, though no one was anywhere close by.

“And then you bought those apothecaries,” she said turning her head to look at him fully.

He snorted, taking a sip of his drink before his head lazily rolled toward her. She felt her stomach knot. His hair was blowing in the wind, his eyes glowed in the darkness and he was so incredibly handsome – his movements alone were enough to make a heat churn in her center.

“My family has always owned apothecaries,” he said in his deep even voice. “I just changed what they did with them and expanded.”

“You mean you lowered the prices,” Hermione said watching his face.

He didn’t respond, he simply shrugged and averted his eyes back to the fire. She could feel the next question burning in her mind as she saw his shoulders grow tighter – like he knew it was coming, _this_ was the one that he had been dreading.

She could feel it.

“Malfoy –“

“Not here,” his voice was clipped but it wasn’t harsh. If anything, it almost sounded pleading.

Hermione bit her lip, she swallowed and then nodded once firmly before turning around to lean against the railing and face the party as he was. Her bare upper arm brushed against his, but he didn’t move and neither did she.

“So how long does this usually go on for?” Hermione asked as she took a sip of her drink and eyed the crowd of people.

“Longer than you want to know,” he said a small smirk forming on his face.

“Like – past 3:00am?” she said, arching a brow at him in amusement.

He snorted again, shaking his head at her like she was a naïve child. “Granger – some of these people have not slept since they got here Friday night.”

-x-x-

She followed him down the hall in silence, walking behind him until they reached their rooms. She watched as he unlocked his and walked inside, holding the door open behind him as if he’d known that she was going to follow him. As if he’d resigned himself to his fate.

She stepped through the opening and closed the door behind her, slipping out of her stilettos and following him through the room and out onto the patio. She felt like she was out of body and she barely noticed the cold of the marble beneath her feet. He lit a fire similar to the ones that had been floating around the restaurant bar and he leaned back against the rail to face her, his silencing wards falling around them as he watched her. She stopped a few feet away from him, watching his eyes as they glinted in the firelight, knowing that he was quietly waiting for her to ask her question.

The one that had been burning in her mind since she found out what he did. The one that he had not wanted to discuss in public. The one that made her feel like she was carrying a loaded gun – like she was about to unearth something big and heavy.

“Why do you work for the Ministry?” she asked quietly, the breeze sending a shiver down her spine. She could feel the tension growing and the nerves in her stomach knotted as her bare feet finally started to grow cold from the patio. Despite knowing that the answer was going to be unpleasant, she _had_ to know. She felt like it was the final missing piece to this fucked up puzzle. “Why do you care if you lose this job Malfoy – you don’t need it.”

She saw him swallow; the tension tight in his shoulders but he kept his eyes on her as he gripped the railing on either side of him.

“It’s mandated,” he said tightly.

“Why,” she hardly spoke it as a question because she already knew the answer, she felt herself take a small step forward as she waited for him to respond.

“Potter was able to reduce my sentence,” Malfoy said slowly, the strain in his voice made her chest tighten. She knew this – but no one but Harry and a limited number of the Wizengamot knew the details of his case. His sentencing and most of the other war trials had been kept private and Hermione had never asked Harry to disclose the information to her. “Six months in Azkaban, one year under house arrest, I’m never allowed to leave the country – and I was required to get an _education_ and a job. One selected by the Ministry and one that I am mandated to maintain in order to prove that I am a functional human being that can operate _safely_ around others and contribute to society in a _healthy_ way – and I need to _keep_ it for just over another month, until December 21st when the contract obligation is met or I default on the agreement – and I go back to Azkaban.”

“For how long,” the words tumbled like a whisper from her lips.

“That depends,” he swallowed tightly, his eyes dropping to the ground. “On who does the sentencing – though based on their decision to move me to M-PaS and work with _you_ I’d argue that it would be a _very_ long time. Despite the rumors that you have undoubtedly heard and despite what Potter has told you under my request – I _wasn’t_ moved because I was difficult to work with. There is a reason why you didn’t even know I was working at the Ministry for the last few years, there is a reason why you never saw me, because despite what people think I _can_ actually keep my head down and work quietly – but someone on the Wizengamot wasn’t happy that I’d made it this far. So, they transferred me to the most stressful position that they had and stuck me with you because they figured that if _anyone_ at the Ministry stood a chance at getting me to crack – it was you.”

He looked at her once more and she saw his jaw tighten.

“And they weren’t fucking wrong, were they?” he said tightly. “I’m already on my last strike after you allegedly _punched_ me in my office – Potter was able to convince them that verbal altercations shouldn’t count as full strikes so it bought me more time and because you and your employees never _formally_ complained or _reported_ anything, _somehow_ – I managed not to get fired for the last four months.”

Hermione felt like a cold stone dropped in her chest and she found it hard to breathe. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Would you have believed me three weeks ago? Or cared for that matter?” Malfoy dropped his hands from the rail and leaned back on his elbows against it. “Besides – I don’t want people doing me any favours, I did this to myself, and Potter already sticks his nose into it enough as it is. _Telling_ you would have defeated the whole purpose – I was supposed to be able to control myself and I didn’t! These are the consequences of _my_ actions Granger – I knew what I was doing when I fought with you, but I did it anyways because I couldn’t fucking control myself around you – just like they had suspected.”

Hermione’s head was spinning.

Was this why Harry constantly tried to get her to be nice to Malfoy? Was this why he said that she should get to know him and why he specifically said not to punch him again? Was this why Harry had pulled them from the Annual Remediation Banquet – to prevent them from making a scene in front of the wrong people?

Why had he lied to her? Why hadn’t he told her? Did Ginny know this too? Why the fuck didn’t she say something? It couldn’t possibly be because Malfoy made them not say anything – they never would have listened to him –

_Oh my god!_

Her mind fit the pieces together like a puzzle – Harry _couldn’t_ tell her.

He was contractually sworn to secrecy – as the primary defendant in Malfoy’s trial he was privy to _all_ the information. He’d gone to every hearing, he knew the sentencing, he knew everything that had transpired. The trials after the war were both incredibly public and incredibly confidential – the specifics of each case had been sealed and only the people directly involved knew the details of the outcome.

Only Malfoy would be able to outwardly speak about the conditions of his trial and why would he have? If word got out that there was a chance to send him back to Azkaban anyone who still hated him from the war would have harassed him into fucking up. Harry was his fucking guarantor – he’d signed the contract and conditions of Malfoy’s sentencing and parole agreement, like the parole was a fucking mortgage that Malfoy couldn’t afford and Harry was his voucher!

Which meant that Ginny _didn’t_ know, she’d just naturally forgiven Malfoy and had come around on him – unlike herself. Malfoy was weeks away from being a fully free man and she’d almost single handedly ruined it for him, and he was going to let her do it.

She felt an anger flick to life in her chest with the realization.

So when the explosions between them had started to happen did he just give up? _OR_ could he truly not stand her or control himself like he’d said? How had she not clued in to any of this sooner – how fucking buried in her job and mind was she? Did he just condemn himself to going back to Azkaban because he was too fucking proud to tell her what was going on? Or did he truly think he was so fucking terrible as a human that he genuinely thought he deserved it?

Her mind circled back to Harry’s words last weekend as they’d stood in her hallway. He’d said similar things to her about Malfoy before – but she’d never listened. She’d never taken it seriously. She’d been too blinded by her anger and hatred and too focused on her job. She _hadn’t_ cared – just like Malfoy said. She thought Harry was just being Harry – wanting everyone to get along. She didn’t realize the weight behind his words or the significance of her actions.

A horrible realization hit her hard in the stomach: Malfoy had told her _half_ of the truth on Friday.

“That’s why Mr. Todgekins sent us here – it’s two-fold, he doesn’t give a shit about the department or me and he doesn’t care if I fail. He was told to cave to the Herbology Association’s request by someone in the Wizengamot. This entire time I’ve been trying to figure out why the hell he didn’t come _with_ us to chaperon given our past behaviour but – it was intentional wasn’t it? Because they’re expecting us to fail – for you to fail,” Hermione felt her throat tighten as her anger grew. “You thought I was going to react after we fucked the first time, didn’t you? You thought it was over for you then – didn’t you? And you were just going to let it happen?! Malfoy what were you thinking?!”

“I was thinking that they weren’t fucking wrong were they!” he snapped back at her, anger burning in his eyes. “I _clearly_ couldn’t handle working around you – I let everything get the better of me and I was a fucking dick! If I can’t control my anger around you or the people near you then that’s _my_ fault and if it makes me default on my contract, then those are my consequences!”

“Yes, but _everything_ that happened between us since the day I first walked into your office was a fucking misunderstanding!!” Hermione yelled at him as her face contorted in anger. She couldn’t believe him. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. “You only acted that way because you thought that I _hated_ you! Because I infuriated you and goaded you – I fucking egged you on and _tried_ to push you! This isn’t ALL on you Malfoy! I’m just as fucking guilty – I _wanted_ you gone! But I didn’t know what was going on – _FUCK!!_ ”

She ran her hands through her hair as she took a deep breath. Everything – all of it – it was all making sense and yet it was still so fucking complicated. It was like an 18 layered trifle fucking disaster with a bunch of shit in it that didn’t belong.

She’d been placed as a pawn in a game that she didn’t know she was playing – completely unaware that her moves were affecting his life so blatantly. Then to top it all off she was so fucking angry and disconnected as a result of her occlumency misuse that she’d been ready to fucking serve him up on a platter. She hadn’t known that any of this was going on and then on top of _that_ she was conflicted with emotions she held for him that she didn’t fully understand.

Her mind flashed back to the night before. To the words he’d spoken, to the look in his eyes. The anger, the hurt, the anguish and the hatred. His hatred for himself.

“You hate yourself so much that you’d let them throw you back in Azkaban ahead of just telling me what was going on,” she said as she stared at him in disbelief.

She felt like she’d taken a hollow blow to the chest. Her heart physically hurt.

Was this how he had felt when he’d found out that she was misusing occlumency and didn’t seem to care about the consequences? Was it this painful for him? Was that why he’d gotten angry with her and left? Because it fucking hurt her to know what he was doing to himself – to think that he would so readily condemn himself.

“Because you think you fucking deserve it don’t you?” Hermione said as she shook her head in anguish as more realizations fell like rocks on her shoulders. “ _Harry_ was the one that requested your sentence be reduced – _not _you – you _never_ even fought for it yourself!”

“Why would I have!” he yelled at her, his face twisting with anger. “All the rest of _his_ Death Eating fuckers were either sentenced to death or are _still_ in Azkaban! I was there through everything _with_ them Granger – I’m _equally_ as guilty! I fucking cursed Katie! I nearly killed Slughorn, I nearly killed Weasel, I nearly killed Potter, I nearly burnt down the school and I watched Burbage get eaten by that fucking snake in my dining room – I followed all my orders and I let a pack of _Death Eaters_ into the fucking _school_!! Dumbledore may have tried to bury all that but it came out in the end! I _participated_ Granger! The only reason they let me and my mother out was _because_ of Potter and because that one fucking night I didn’t say who you were!”

“Jesus Fucking Christ Malfoy! Stop torturing yourself over the shitty decisions that you made as a kid! Can’t you see that you’re different now! You were sixteen when you took the dark mark, Malfoy! SIXTEEN!” Hermione had moved before him and grabbed the front of his suit tightly. “That was _YEARS_ ago! And you didn’t even _want_ it!”

Malfoy grabbed her wrist as she jerked him roughly and he glared down at her as a myriad of emotions raced behind his eyes.

“You don’t want to go back to Azkaban,” she said harshly, her grip tightening on his shirt.

“Of course I don’t _want_ to go back – it was the worst fucking experience of my life!” he spat. “But those are the conditions of my parole Granger and I didn’t see a way to avoid it given how _every_ time I saw you, we fucking exploded! It was fucking inevitable, so I gave up!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Hermione jerked him forward. “You might have initially given up but ever since last weekend when you confronted me at Angelina’s birthday party and stayed at my place you’ve done nothing but _try_ to help me! You’ve been trying to fix this – you even told me on our first night here that you _didn’t_ want to lose your job – but you didn’t give me all the information, you didn’t tell me what was going on so I didn’t understand the significance of what you were doing!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to say Granger?!” Malfoy stepped away from the railing. Grabbing her side with his free hand and pushing her backward. “After we fucked the first time, I thought for sure it was over – I thought you would formally complain – but then you didn’t fucking do anything! Then I found out that you’d boxed yourself in so tightly you could barely fucking breathe! And then it happened _again,_ and I tried to try – but we _still_ exploded because that seems to be what comes naturally to us! I sure as fuck wasn’t going to guilt trip you into anything, especially not with the shit that you’re already going through – and I didn’t know what the _fuck_ was going on with you – with _us_ – _fucking hell Granger!_ I _still_ don’t understand!”

His eyes were desperate as he glared down at her. She felt the cold glass of the large window to his room press against her bare back. His hand was gripping her hip tightly, his opposite clutching the wrist of her arm that was caught between them as he pressed her against the window and lowered his forehead to hers with a frustrated groan.

“ _Why_ did you _stay_ last night?” he said tightly, his eyes locking with hers. “ _Why_ do you _keep_ letting me touch you? And _don’t_ fucking say it’s because you forgive me – even if you do – even if you haven’t boxed anything about me up and even forgetting the fact that I don’t deserve you – _why_ are we doing this? _What_ are we doing – _please_ – tell me _why_ you keep ending up back in my arms?”

Hermione felt her heart tighten painfully in her chest. It was what she had been wondering since the second they arrived here – and she didn’t have an answer for him. She didn’t know. She felt just as confused as he did, she could see it in his eyes. He felt just as painfully desperate as she did.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her breath trembling as she gripped his shirt tighter.

Her eyes locked to his burning ones. She could feel a heat circling through her body at the intense closeness between them. Her heart was racing, and she felt like she was going to explode from the overwhelm of everything that had just been said – it was like an emotional bomb had gone off.

“Do you hate me?” his voice was so low, so quiet compared to the screaming that had echoed only moments ago.

“No,” she breathed.

“Do you want me?” his breath ghosted across her face and she could hear the strain in his voice. His words made the coil in her center tighten as a shiver shook her body.

“Yes,” she whispered as his mouth grew closer to hers.

“Then _what_ – is _this_ Granger?”

“I don’t know,” her voice was so low now she could barely hear it. “But I want to find out.”

His lips pressed against hers and her body trembled. The movement was slow and tense before his hand tightened on her hip and he broke away to whisper tightly against her lips.

“Why?” he pressed his body against hers hard and a small groan left her lips.

“Because I want this.”

He kissed her again, the hand on her waist slipping up her side to her ribcage as her breath caught in her chest.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against her lips before his tongue traced along her bottom one and she gasped against his mouth.

“I don’t care,” she breathed against him, her free hand moving up his back to tangle in his hair. She slid her lips over his, the air so tight between them that she could barely fucking breathe as his grip on her body tightened even harder. She drew a ragged breath and whispered against his lips. “I don’t care if that’s what you think – I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

She pressed her lips to his again quickly and she felt his thigh press between her legs.

“I _don’t_ want you to lose your job before I get the chance to know you,” she whispered as she pulled him closer. “I want to _know_ you Malfoy.”

She closed the centimeter between their lips again and kissed him deeply, a groan seeping from his lips before she broke away once more.

“ _All_ of you – all of it – I want you to tell me everything, I want to try – whatever _this_ is I want to figure it out,” she whispered as she pressed herself against him. “I want _this_.”

His tongue slipped into her mouth at her words and he pressed himself against her fully, letting go of her arm and sliding his hand into her hair at the base of her neck. A deep burning heat was radiating from her abdomen as he kissed her slowly, deeply. His hand tilting her head up as he pressed her into the window and she all but melted into his body.

“What do _you_ want Malfoy?” she whispered as their lips broke apart once more and she looked up at him.

She felt her heart beat hard in her chest as she stared at him. He was so impossibly close, she could see everything in his eyes and it made it hard to breathe. His eyes were tracing over her desperately, longingly and he looked afraid. She could feel the air growing tight around them as she held her breath and waited for his answer.

“You,” he breathed, the word quiet and raspy like the air had been stolen from his lungs before he’d spoken it.

His word sent a surge through her body that made her knees go weak and her heart stuttered in her chest. It was so intense a small sound almost like a moan poured from her mouth as she gasped for air.

“You drive me fucking crazy sometimes,” he whispered as his hand on her side tightened and he pressed himself into her further. “ _But I want you so badly it hurts_.”

His words sounded like agony and Hermione felt something tug across her heart harder than anything she’d ever felt.

“Then take me,” the words fell from her lips like a whisper and she barely processed the look of deep heated desire that flooded his eyes before his lips crashed against hers.

(To be continued…)

-x-x-

Loveeeeee you


	13. The Otter and The Dragon Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – stuck together for five days… things are bound to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

_“You,” he breathed, the word quiet and raspy like the air had been stolen from his lungs before he’d spoken it._

_His word sent a surge through her body that made her knees go weak and her heart stuttered in her chest. It was so intense a small sound almost like a moan poured from her mouth as she gasped for air._

_“You drive me fucking crazy sometimes,” he whispered as his hand on her side tightened and he pressed himself into her further. “ But I want you so badly it hurts.”_

_His words sounded like agony and Hermione felt something tug across her heart harder than anything she’d ever felt._

_“Then take me,” the words fell from her lips like a whisper and she barely processed the looked of deep heated desire that flooded his eyes before his lips crashed against hers._

Malfoy was kissing her, an experience that she’d been becoming increasingly familiar with and yet at the moment it felt entirely new – entirely unfamiliar. It was deep, it was longing – it was like her words had unlocked something inside him. It had given him permission to touch her, kiss her, and hold her in exactly the way he wanted to. And as his hands wrapped tightly around her body, she began to realize that perhaps he’d wanted her _this_ way for longer than she’d initially anticipated. Aside from the slow passionate sex they’d had the night before their other experiences had been so heated and desperate, they were almost blurry.

But not this time.

This time, despite the heat and desperate nature of their contact – everything was purposeful. Everything was deliberate. His hands ran over her body like he was trying to memorize the shape of her, and all Hermione could do was cling to him as she moaned deeply into his mouth. He touched her like she was the only thing in the world that he wanted. Each movement gentle, yet hard, laced with deep want and _intimate_ in a way that she could hardly comprehend.

And while urgent, intense and heated – it didn’t feel anything like the usual preamble they’d had before fucking in the past. It wasn’t even close; it was something else entirely. She could feel the shift in dynamic between them as he all but inhaled her and she melted against him and her earlier anger was forgotten entirely.

His lips burned against hers, his tongue sliding over her teeth and knotting with hers before he took her bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it. His leg pressed into her center, pinning her to the cold window and sending shivers down her spine as he rocked into her and made the heat at her center flare. Her hand tangled in his hair, her opposite gripping his shoulder tightly and twisting in the fabric of his suit jacket as she tugged him closer. Desire burned through her body the same way it always seemed to when he touched her but this time it wasn’t solely based on lust.

She wanted him.

She wanted _all_ of him.

She’d told him so – and while the thought terrified her it also made her heart race and her soul soar. She wasn’t sure yet what ‘ _all of him’_ meant, but she lost herself to the feel of him and continued to pull him closer to her body.

“Malfoy,” she panted breathlessly when his lips had finally left hers and moved along her jaw. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say but she’d felt the urge to say something while swept up in the intense rush that flooded through her body. Her head rolled limply to the side as his relentless and heated attack on her body remained unceasing. His lips trailed hot down her neck to her exposed shoulder where he bit her softly and sucked on her pulse point. She groaned loudly, the sound coming out deep and throaty as she instinctively rolled her hips against the thigh pressed between her legs. “ _Ungh_ – fuck I–“

“Take them off,” his words were breathless as his lips moved back up her neck toward her ear and his hand moved to untie the knot of her dress at the back of her neck.

“Wha – ahh,” Hermione’s question was cut off as Malfoy pressed his thigh into her center and she groaned out in pleasure. Her mind spun to the only thing that she could think of and she removed the sticking charms on her dress so he could peel it off of her.

“No,” Malfoy’s voice rumbled deep in her ear and she shivered against him as his lips moved across her skin. “The glamours.”

She froze.

Her body becomingly instantly stiff against his hard frame, her breath coming in pants as her eyes opened and she looked up to see him staring down at her. His hand was still tangled in her hair, his body was pressed flush against hers while his other hand was gripping the tie of her dress as he visibly restrained himself and waited for her to remove her glamours. Her bleary eyes searched his face as she tried to force her mind to work. His eyes were hazed with desire and want, but she could make out a hint of the pain and desperation that she’d seen earlier. She swallowed hard as her heart continued to pound heavy in her chest.

He’d already seen them, she knew this – but that had been an accident. An accident that had resulted in a screaming match, a massive emotional outburst and then passionate slow, emotional sex. She didn’t like leaving her scars exposed and she sure as hell did not like people seeing them. Especially Malfoy. She could still see the anguished expression that had appeared on his face at the sight of them in her mind – it was obvious that seeing them brought him pain so she didn’t understand why he would _want_ to see them _again_.

Sure, they’d had sex after he’d seen them, and she’d left them exposed but that was different – that had been ‘ _in the moment’_. She’d been drunk and angry, not thinking clearly, _and_ his bedroom was much darker than this balcony what with the fire burning off to her left.

The idea of removing the glamours now felt ridiculous – almost masochistic of him to want to see them again and feel that same pain once more.

Hermione’s head began to gently shake without her even realizing that she was doing it as she rejected the idea. “Malfoy I–”

“You said that you wanted to know _all _of me,” Malfoy cut her off, his eyes becoming more strained as he fought against his urge to just kiss her and untie the knot held between his fingers. “I said I wanted you, you told me to take you – but I want _all _of you too.”

Hermione felt her throat tighten as the air in her lung suddenly seemed to disappear. “But–”

“Including,” Malfoy cut her off again as his grip in her hair tightened and he dropped his head closer to hers. “The parts that are broken, the parts that you hide and the parts that you hate – even the parts that hurt. Otherwise nothing about this is real – we can’t pretend like the past doesn’t exist or I’m never going to be able to learn how to deal with things in a way that won’t land me back in Azkaban and you’re never going to fix your occlumency.”

Hermione’s body had grown cold in the night as she stared up at him wide-eyed, yet something deep and terrifying churned in the pit of her stomach at his words.

This was real.

He’d just made everything that had happened between them and what was happening now more real than any of their other previous arguments or conversations. She felt out of body as she shivered in his arms and watched the wind blow his white blonde hair as the firelight flickered around them.

He wasn’t asking her to make a commitment. He wasn’t asking her to define what they were, to give him anything or to make any promises. He wasn’t asking her to do anything other than just be herself in her entirety because he wanted to know that what was happening between them was real. It was clear that he desperately wanted her – that was more obvious than an erumpent crashing a party, but it was also painfully clear that he didn’t want to continue down this path of random passionate sex unless he knew that it wouldn’t cause further damage to either of them. And that meant addressing the awkward and uncomfortable topics.

Hermione felt her chest tighten as the realization hit her like a bludger.

Malfoy _cared_.

He wanted everything involved including the pain because he _cared_. How and in exactly what way she wasn’t sure, but he cared about her enough to not want to make things worse. Deep down, even if he thought he deserved it, he cared about not going back to Azkaban. He didn’t want to run from things or hide from things – or make things worse. He wanted a chance at a free life. She realized now that when he’d said that he’d _wanted_ her it was more than just physically.

The thought was hard to process. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, but she did know that he wasn’t wrong. She hated the idea of him or anyone else ever seeing the scars on her body again but what was the point of her getting to know him if she didn’t let him in in return? How could she say honestly that she wanted to figure out what was going on between them if she continued to bury the pieces of herself that made her insecure and uncomfortable.

Hermione’s grip tightened on his suit as his brow pinched and he swallowed hard.

“You remove yours,” his voice was tight and nearly a whisper. “And – and I’ll remove mine.”

Hermione swallowed hard as she looked at him. His eyes were searching her face as his shoulders grew tight with anticipation. She hardly noticed the cold breeze that blew across them, or the freezing cold that radiated up into the soles of her feet and made her toes colder than ice. She’d never realized that Malfoy was wearing a glamour – she’d never even considered it as a possibility or thought that he would have anything to hide. She didn’t know if this was a good idea or what she wanted and she didn’t fully understand how she felt about him yet.

But she found herself nodding slowly as her eyes latched to his.

Without moving a muscle, she wordlessly removed her glamours and she fought back the urge to look at her arm or cover her neck. She kept her eyes locked to his and he stared right back. His gaze didn’t waiver for an instant to glance down at her neck or take another look at the red lines that marred her arm. Instead, she saw him nod almost imperceptibly before she felt the flicker of magic move across his body and they stood there pressed tightly against one another in the cold.

Something had shifted yet again, and even though the desperate heat from the intense kiss beforehand had left her body – she felt a different sort of heat begin to creep through her limbs as she stared at him. It was warm, it was nervous, it was vulnerable. They were so close together that she could not only _feel_ every part of his body against hers, she could _see_ everything in his eyes – and in a way she felt like she was seeing him for the first time.

Open. Honest. Exactly as he was. The usual intense anger, annoyance and hatred gone from his face and leaving room for something else. Something new.

“Your eyes are _grey_ ,” she whispered, her finger twitching in his hair at the back of his neck as her gaze flicked between his eyes. “Almost silver – I always thought they were blue.”

Malfoy shifted, his grip at the back of her neck tightening as his hand slid away from the knot of her dress to rest on the side of her face. The warmth made her shudder against him as she felt the pad of his thumb brush against her cheek, making her eyes flutter slightly at the gentleness of the touch.

“And yours have flecks of gold,” he said it so quietly it was barely audible. She could feel the air between them growing tighter once more as his eyes traced over her face.

Then he moved closer, she felt her pulse quicken as he closed the distance between them and placed a soft gentle kiss on her lips. She felt her breath hitch as she instinctively tightened her hold on him and inhaled sharply.

It felt electric.

It was so painfully perfect and innocent she felt her body start to tremble. It was like a first kiss – a _real_ first kiss. The kind that you’d been waiting for, the one that you’d been thinking about – the one you’d been hoping would happen but didn’t know how to initiate. The kind that made your heart race, your brain numb, and your body tingle everywhere – the kind that made you feel _alive_.

Which was not something that she’d felt in years.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach as his lips shifted against hers and she felt his hand slide down her neck so his thumb could angle her head. She was clay in his hands once more, unsteady on her legs as he deepened the kiss and slowly coaxed her mouth open by running his tongue over her bottom lip. She’d never imagined him capable of such an excruciatingly tantalizing and toe curling kiss. She clutched him tightly as she kissed him back and tried to remember how to breathe as her heart thudded erratically in her chest. She reveled at the taste of him, she slid her hand from his hair to his neck and traced her thumb over his skin. She felt him shiver against her and so she did it again and slid her opposite one to the front of his chest so she could push his suit jacket from his shoulders.

He shifted, removing his hold on her so the jacket could fall to the ground before he returned his hands to her and pulled her tight against his body. They slid up her back and burned along her sides as their kiss quickened and the heat of a deep and familiar desire returned. He groaned against her lips when she bit him gently and tugged his shirt from his pants. She gasped for air, her back arching into him as his mouth ran down the side of her neck and he pressed his thigh into her center. He pulled her away from the cold window, his warm hands tracing up her bare back as he moved them to the large chaise lounge chair in the corner of the balcony.

A second fire sprang up on the right, adding more heat and cutting the cold chill to a bearable and almost comfortable level as he pushed her back against the cushioned surface and followed her body down – crawling above her on his knees like he had the other night. His tie dragged up her slender frame as he moved, and she felt his hands return to the knot at the base of her neck. With one quick pull the fabric came undone and she shivered as his fingers ghosted across her skin and pulled the black evening gown from her frame. Even though she lifted her hips for him to slide it off, and even though she wanted the fabric gone she still felt her nerves flare to life in her chest as he dropped the dress to the ground and stared down at her exposed body.

He’d seen it before, he’d seen it _all_ – but this time it felt different. It felt real.

She fought the urge to cover her chest as she watched his eyes trail down her body, lingering on her black lace panties before slowly gliding back up to meet her nervous gaze once more. His eyes were heated, and he was looking at her in a way that made her bite her lip in anticipation before his lips captured hers with newfound intensity. She arched into him, her hands gripping his shirt and quickly working the buttons open so she could run her fingers over his skin as his hands slid up her sides. She groaned when he palmed her breast, his fingers rolling her nipple as she slide her hands over his chest. She wanted more contact. The coil in her center was winding tighter as his teeth dragged down her neck and she tried to pull him down closer.

“Malfoy,” she panted against his collar as she pushed the fabric from his shoulders. “Take this off.”

She felt his body freeze for a fraction of a second before he pulled back from her neck, sat back on his heels and she felt her eyes grow wide. There were more silver scars across his body now, they were thicker and far more noticeable. The largest of them making three diagonal lines across his chest like someone had tried to split him open.

And there was red.

A long angry red scar dragged down across his abs. It looked similar to the marks that she had, and she suspected that he’d received it from the same dagger. As he took off his dress shirt another red scar on his shoulder came into view – along with a familiar black mark on his left forearm. He watched her face as she took him in. Her eyes moved up his chest, across his shoulder and down his scarred left arm to the black that stained his skin.

She’d forgotten about it.

She’d seen his naked pale arms wrapped around her what felt like countless times now and she’d never once wondered where it had gone. She’d never asked – she’d never even thought about it. Her eyes lingered on it for a long moment until they darted back to his and she took in the full sight of Malfoy straddling her thighs above her. He was outlined in the glow of the flames, his porcelain skin almost glowing with elegance, his broad well-muscled shoulders and impeccable chest so perfect it was almost painful. His jaw was clenched, his gaze was still heated, longing, wanting – but it was laced with a layer of nervousness like he was prepared for the worst and expecting to receive it. Like he thought that seeing his dark mark would be the blatant reminder she needed to realize just _who_ it was she was laying beneath. That she’d remember what he’d done and change her mind.

 _That’s what this is really about_ , she thought as she stared up at him and felt her chest tighten. He wanted her to see _him_. He wanted her to rethink things because at the end of the day when it came down to it, he didn’t think he deserved her. He never would, and he wouldn’t allow himself to have her again unless he’d put everything out in the open and tried to deter her.

Hermione swallowed.

It was hard – and it was so much harder because she wasn’t occluding. Every nervous feeling, every insecurity, every thought and every doubt she had were racing through her mind like a swarm of angry pixies. It was overwhelming. It was hard to process, and she struggled not to panic and bail like she always did. She had no excuses for what was going on between them anymore – she couldn’t blame this on anger or alcohol or anything else. This was voluntary and he was right to think that this would have an impact on her.

But he was wrong about the reasons why.

She wasn’t struggling to accept _who_ he was – she was struggling to accept her feelings in general because she’d spent years bottling everything up and blocking it off. She didn’t care about the scars. She didn’t care about the mark. She _knew_ what he did in the _past_ – it didn’t frighten her. What she wanted was to know who he was _now_ and what frightened her was acknowledging the fact that she might actually care about him – about another person in a way that made her heart twist painfully. She didn’t want him to lose his job. She didn’t want him to go back to Azkaban and she didn’t want to stop just because things were complicated.

If there was one single thing that she’d learned over the course of the last three weeks and specifically over this weekend – it was that life was fucking complicated.

It was layered and difficult, it was painful and lonely – but you couldn’t just switch it off, you couldn’t just tune it out. It would go on with or without you and the only thing you could do was make a choice about how you wanted to participate in it. She’d been completely disconnected for years and it had left her broken, angry, unfulfilled at work and completely unaware of the things going on around her. In not a single moment of that time had she ever felt as alive as she did right now laying beneath Malfoy on the balcony of a fancy hotel on a cold November night.

Regardless of who he was or what he’d done – life and her feelings would be complicated just the same. And it didn’t change how she felt, it didn’t change that she wanted him even if she didn’t understand why or how much.

She pushed herself up from the cushion slowly. His eyes tracked her movements as she sat up before him so her chest was less than a foot away from his as she met his gaze. His body was tense, waiting for the judgement to come as his eyes flicked over her face and he watched carefully, quietly. Then to his obvious surprise because his eyes widened, she gently placed a hand on the side of his face, her thumb skimming over his prominent cheek bone before she leaned in and kissed him.

His body practically vibrated under her touch. She heard him exhale sharply before his hands gripped her waist tightly and his final reservations seemed to fall away.

His hands slid up her body, their warmth burning against her skin in the cold November air. She gasped as he pulled her tight against his chest before he pushed her back on the cushion and began tracing his lips down her neck to her chest. She squirmed underneath him, keening in pleasure as his mouth kissed and nipped and worked its way down her body until she felt him hook two fingers under her panties and then he dragged them down her legs. She didn’t even have a moment to process what he was about to do before she felt something hot and wet run through her already slick folds.

“ _M-Malfoy?!_ ” her eyes shot wide, her back arched as her shoulders pressed back into the cushion and she gasped out his name in a breathy voice she didn’t know she was capable of making. But the sound only seemed to spur him on more as she felt his tongue delve deeper. “ _Unghh – ah fuck._ ”

Her hand knotted in his hair, gripping the blonde locks between her legs tightly as her hips instinctively rolled up into his mouth. She couldn’t stop rambling; she couldn’t stop gasping ragged breaths as his tongue circled her clit then dipped inside her. It felt so good she couldn’t stand it; his hand gripped her hip firmly and held her in place as she writhed against his mouth and gripped the cushion at her side like it was her lifeline. She felt fingers ghosting up the skin of her legs before he shifted a fraction and slid two inside her. His mouth still relentlessly working her clit as his fingers curled up to stroke the rough patch of nerves deep inside her.

“Oh _fuck_ – _Malfoy_ – I – I,” she couldn’t get the words out as the coil in her center wound impossibly tight. Her breath caught in her chest, her hand tightened in his hair, she arched up into him and her mouth opened as a low deep groan poured from her lips. Her eyes shut tight as she came hard. White flashed across her vision as her body spasmed and he held her steady, licking her clit and stroking her down from the immense wave of pleasure that encapsulated her body.

She shook and trembled, her bleary eyes cracking open to gaze down her body and catching sight of the silver blonde locks shifting as Malfoy pulled away from her center. She reached out to him, pulling him toward her and catching his lips in a desperate hungry kiss as her hands shot to his waist and she unbuckled the belt he was wearing. She needed him, she needed to have him inside her now. He kicked down his pants and boxers, his hands ran up her sides once more as he moved between her legs and she spread them wide for him. She felt him run his stiff cock against her soaking wet folds and she shuddered as a new round of bliss ran through her body. Then he pushed into her and her mouth dropped opened in a moan at the same time a deep groan left his.

“Fuck,” he hissed before he kissed her again, his tongue sliding so deep in her mouth she could only keen in pleasure. It registered somewhere deep in the back of her mind that this was the first word he’d ever said while they’d been engaged in _activities_ , but the thought was lost to her when he slowly drew himself out only to push himself in once again.

When he’d embedded himself within her up to the hilt, he shifted his hold, his hand gripping her hip as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. Then he began thrusting into her at an agonizingly slow pace. She kissed his neck, her lips moving down his porcelain skin to his shoulder where she kissed across the skin and bit him softly. He groaned above her, his hand snaking underneath her and up her spine before his fingers laced into the hair at the base of her neck. She arched into him, she couldn’t get any closer to him as it was physically impossible. Her body was plastered against his, pinned between his chest and the arm beneath her back – but she still wanted more. She wanted to have him even closer, so she hooked her ankles behind him and pressed into him.

She groaned out as his tongue ran down her neck and he quickened the pace, thrusting into her in long deep motions that made the coil in her center spark back to life as he hit that rough patch of nerves. The cold surrounding them was long forgotten, she felt like she was a thousand degrees in his arms as he held her tightly and sucked on her neck to mark her body as his. She clenched her channel for him, tilting her hips up so he could get deeper and she reveled in the groaned words that left his lips in response.

“Fuck Granger,” he panted as she continued to squeeze him with her core. His face was buried in her neck and the sound of her name leaving his lips and echoing against her ear in such a heated breathy groan made her moan as her body rolled up to meet each thrust. He could make her come just by doing that, he could make her fall to pieces with that deep rasping voice.

“Malfoy,” she panted against him and she heard what could only be described as a deep growl escape his lips as his mouth moved back to hers and he began to devour her.

His hips snapped forward quicker, his breath grew more ragged as clearly his name on her lips had an effect on him too. Hermione gripped him tighter as the coil in her center twisted and she groaned into his mouth as he tilted her hips and drove into her. She couldn’t handle it; she couldn’t take the pleasure as her over sensitive body became overwhelmed with bliss. Her nails dug into his skin; his hands held her firmly as his fingers tightened in her hair. She broke away from his lips to cry out as she came for a second time and her body jerked beneath him. He pulled back to drive into her deeper still, his hand slipping out from under her back to grip her side tightly.

“ _Fuck – Malfoy – fuu- unghh_ ,” she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see, she tried to inhale as something deep within her snapped and she melted incoherently in his arms. She heard his voice above her, and her eyes cracked open just in time to see him fall apart through the haze that clouded her vision.

“ _Granger_ –“ he grunted in a strained voice as he thrust deep into her and his body tensed as his orgasm sprung loose. His eyes were shut tight, his face looked almost pained, a thin layer of sweat coated his forehead and his hair fell around his face and stuck up like a glorious mess around him.

Hermione felt her heart stutter in her chest. She couldn’t look away and she watched him finish inside her with jerky trembling movements. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The fire glowed off his skin, the red and silver scars on his body like artwork as his muscles flexed with tension and pleasure. She watched him take ragged breaths as her hand slid down his shoulder, over his scars down to his forearm where she gripped him tightly – aware and uncaring that her fingers pressed against the black ink that marked his body.

When his eyes finally opened, he looked dazed and heated. She reached up to his face, threading the fingers of her left hand into his hair as her palm rested on his cheek. He was panting hard, his gaze fixed on her as if he couldn’t believe that she was beneath him. He shook his head in disbelief, his hair blowing in the cold wind that moved across their burning bodies.

“You’re so beautiful,” his words were quiet, ragged and nearly whispered – but they stole her breath away just the same. She lay there beneath him, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she watched him twist his head and place a kiss on the inside of her left forearm. Right on top of the ‘O’ and ‘ _D_ ’ of her scar.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

She couldn’t handle the storm of emotions that were raging inside her.

She pulled him down to her and latched her lips to his. She lost herself in the kiss, her lips sliding against his, consuming him as her hands slid over his body and he wrapped his arms around her. They stayed that way for what felt like forever, Malfoy running his lips over her skin as she raked her hands through his hair and kissed down his neck – absorbing every piece of him that she could get her hands on as the heat slowly left their bodies.

When she shivered from the cold, she felt his hand leave her body for a second only for the duvet and two pillows to fly soundless through the open balcony door toward them. He covered them with it, pulling her back into his arms as the two fires continued to burn a few feet away.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep there. She hadn’t meant to stay with him for a second night, especially not out on a balcony in the cold almost winter air. But she would be lying if she said that she didn’t want to stay. She’d be lying if she said that curling up in his arms under a thick duvet with a cold breeze on her face wasn’t the best feeling in the world. She’d be lying if she said that nuzzling her cold nose into his pale warm chest and feeling his chin press on top of her head wasn’t bliss, or that she didn’t feel her heart twist in her chest as his hands traced circles up and down her spine.

She’d be lying if she said that this wasn’t perfect.

That this wasn’t exactly what she wanted.

Or that she didn’t care about him.

Because she did.

She could feel an unfamiliar tightness growing in her chest as her eyes started to drift closed. It was a feeling similar to how she felt when she hugged Harry or Ginny – except that it was entirely, and completely different.

It was deeper and it was heated.

-x-x-

Hermione woke to the sound of a quiet bird chirping but she was too tired and too comfortable to open her eyes. Her body was cocooned in warmth, yet her nose and face were cold – not freezing, but chilled. The heat seemed to be radiating from something pressed firmly into her side. She could feel a heavy weight across her body that felt familiar, it felt comforting and safe. A breeze blew across her skin and startled her senses.

 _What the_ –

Her eyes cracked open to take in the dim grey light of morning, the white that surrounded them and then her eyes blinked with realization as her body naturally and instinctively tensed. They’d fallen asleep on the balcony in the lounge chair. Malfoy’s face was curled into her shoulder once more, his arm and leg strewn across her body under the thick duvet that held all their heat. His body was limp and relaxed, but she knew better than to assume that he was still sleeping as her eyes darted around the balcony and took in the rest of their surroundings. Two fires burned nearby, keeping the air from becoming freezing and giving them just enough heat to be comfortable. Their clothes littered the ground, Malfoy’s suit jacket was by the door, his pants at the end of the lounge chair and her dress by its side.

But what made her eyes widen with wonder and surprise was the thin layer of fresh white snow that covered the balcony, the railing and the trees below them. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she looked around and fought to ease the tension from her body and the panic from her mind. It was less than yesterday morning – still present and still a problem she would need to deal with but at least today she wasn’t consumed with an overwhelming instinct to flee. Instead only a generalized panic thrummed in her mind like a heartbeat, but she forced it down as she made her shoulders relax into the cushion.

 _Relax_ , she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through her nose and feeling some of the tension ease from her body. _Relax and breathe – you’re safe, you want to be here. This is just muscle memory. Relax._

Ten long breaths later she felt most of the tension leave her body and she opened her eyes again to look around once more.

It was only 5:40 am. It was still incredibly early, but they did need to be down to the conference in just over two hours for an 8:30 start. Hermione looked up to the falling snow. It was falling in fat thick fluffy flakes, but their lounge chair was entirely untouched as if it had been charmed to keep the weather out. Her lips twisted into a smile once more. She knew that the balconies were privacy charmed so that no one could see onto them, she read it in the pamphlet in her hotel room on the day she arrived – not that it would matter. Their rooms were at the end of the hall and no other balconies faced their direction. She had felt the privacy charm work when she’d stepped out on the balcony the first time but she knew that the weather charm currently shielding them and preventing them from getting covered in a thin layer of snow was Malfoy’s handiwork. Either he’d had the foresight to put it in place before he fell asleep or he’d woken up when the snow started and added it then.

Either way, it spoke volumes that she’d been comfortable enough to fall asleep with him out in the open. Normally she only ever felt safe sleeping indoors, specifically in her own home – hence the added wards and locking charms she’d added to her hotel room. The last time she’d fallen asleep outside in the open had been with Harry, and she’d only felt safe because he was there.

She continued to lay there silently for another ten minutes, her mind flicking through the memories of the night before and she continued to force her body to be calm as she tried to properly process her memories and feelings. Malfoy remained motionless and quiet at her side as she worked through them and she wondered if he knew. She didn’t feel him brush against her mind – but he’d said he’d done this himself during the war so maybe he knew that mornings were worse. So, maybe he knew that each time she woke after unpacking that first cube her mind was flooded with a wave of emotion and she needed to spend time dealing with it until she calmed down.

Maybe he was simply giving her space to do so or maybe – maybe he was worried that she would panic again and still want to leave. She forced that thought quickly from her mind because she knew it was just her inner anxiety spiking. After what happened between them last night, he _had_ to know that she wasn’t going anywhere. He _had_ to know that despite the complexity and issues between them she still wanted him.

She swallowed hard and took another breath. She wanted to believe that he understood – but maybe it was time she stopped making assumptions.

Maybe it was time she started to get to know him properly and _ask_ him about the things that she wanted to know.

“Malfoy?” she whispered quietly just in case he _was_ still sleeping.

“Mm,” the deep reply came from her shoulder though he remained unmoving.

“Was – was it worse for you in the mornings after you dealt with the things you’d boxed up?” Hermione asked him quietly, her eyes looking up to the sky and watching the snowflakes fall.

“Yes,” he said quietly. She felt his arm shift across her body as he brought his hand up to her shoulder and his thumb moved tentatively across her skin – like he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to touch her in such a caring and intimate way. “Like being hit by a wave of emotions and memories from the day before.”

“How long did it take to go away?”

His thumb stopped moving and then his hand gripped her shoulder gently. “It didn’t.”

She felt her body growing tense again at his words as a new panic began to rise in her chest. She’d really fucked up. No wonder he’d gotten so angry with her when he’d found out what she’d done – if it never went away that meant she would be dealing with the repercussions of her own arrogance and stupidity for the rest of her life. She felt his grip on her tighten and his thumb pressed into her tense muscles in a small circular motion.

“It gets easier – it fades,” he said, his voice rumbling calmly against her ear. “It doesn’t happen every morning anymore, maybe only once a month or sometimes not even that. It gets worse when life is stressful – but generally it’s not a problem. You’ll get better at dealing with it.”

Hermione nodded as she tried to make her body relax once more and focused on the soothing circles he was pressing into her shoulder. “How did you deal with it – what did you do?”

A long deep breath escaped his lungs. Two weeks ago, she would have misinterpreted it as annoyance or anger on his part. She would have instantly lashed out at him and gotten angry – but now she understood he was probably thinking through his response and figuring out what he should say.

“I learned how to acknowledge emotions but not let them control me,” he said slowly. “It’s not occlumency – it’s actually a form of meditation. You allow yourself to acknowledge how you feel, you accept it for what it is and then you let the thought go instead of thinking on it, judging it or obsessing over it. You need to stop overthinking things and giving them time or attention unless they are important and actually deserve your effort in order to resolve a real problem. Then over time it gets easier and easier. You don’t block them out or box them up like in occlumency, you just learn to co-exist with your emotions, but you control them instead of reacting to them. So basically – exactly what we _didn’t_ do for the last four months.”

Hermione snorted at his joke and she felt more of the tension ease from her body as she thought his words over with a smile. One week ago, she would have taken them as a personal insult. She would have thought that he was criticizing her and berating her, and she would have reacted poorly like she had in her kitchen when he’d brought up the effects of misusing occlumency. She would have allowed her anger, rage and insecurity to get the better of her and she would have reacted – just like he’d described.

To be fair – one week ago he probably would have said it like an asshole and he probably _would_ have meant it like an insult. But still – their progress in being able to speak to each other and coexist was like night and day.

He shifted as she twisted and rolled over to face him, his silver grey eyes watching her face as she slid closer and gently pushed some of the blonde white hair away from his face. Her fingers trailed down the side of his face to his jaw before moving between them and intertwining with his hand. She watched him for a quiet moment before she squeezed his hand and spoke.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

His brow furrowed a fraction. “For what?”

“For everything,” she said quietly as her eyes locked to his. “For confronting me last weekend, for staying when my mind collapsed, for helping me not look like an idiot here – and for telling me how to manage things. I’m going to try it and I’m going to keep unpacking cubes once this is done.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” his face twisted at her words and two days ago she would have assumed that he was angry. But now she realized that he was just uncomfortable with her gratitude – because he didn’t think he deserved it. “I already told you–”

“I don’t care if you don’t think you _need_ to be thanked,” Hermione cut him off as her grip on his hand tightened. She saw his jaw clench as he stared at her hard. “I’m thanking you because **_I_** want to – because it means something to me. I’m never _not_ going to thank someone for doing something that’s important to me or helps me in some way so regardless of whether or not you think you deserve it – I’m going to do it anyways. You don’t have to say ‘ _you’re welcome_ ’ or anything else.”

The muscle in his jaw flexed and his eyes narrowed but he remained silent. After a long quiet moment, he finally nodded stiffly and she felt his thumb run over the back of her hand in submission.

It was surreal to think that they were laying naked in each other’s arms on a snow covered balcony speaking calmly without blowing up after having deep _meaningful_ sex the night before. It was insane to think how drastically things had shifted between them – and yet not insane at all. In some ways it made sense. They were both so stubborn and angry that in a lot of ways she didn’t see how things could have gone any differently. They both needed to completely explode in order to finally get everything out in the open. As smart as the two of them were, they were both incredibly stupid and short sighted in how they’d interacted.

She laid with him in silence as her mind filled with thoughts of the night before, of how she really did not want to lose what this was even if she wasn’t ready to outwardly admit that she felt something more than just lust. She wasn’t ready for that, but she wasn’t going to let him go either. Her hand continued to tighten on his unconsciously until he finally spoke, and she realized what she was doing.

“Are you trying to break it?” his words were still raspy and deep from sleep and his breath puffed against her face in the cold as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“What? Oh! Sorry,” she flushed and dropped her hold on him as her eyes dropped to his chest, but he quickly grabbed her hand again and re-threaded their fingers. “I – I didn’t mean to do that I was just thinking.”

“Are you ever not?”

Her brow furrowed and her eyes darted back to his. She was expecting to see a scowl on his annoyingly perfect face but the small smile at the corner of his lips remained and amusement shone in his eyes. She felt the anger that had instinctively come to life at his words fall away again.

“No,” she gave him a small harmless glare before snorting and smiling. It felt weird to joke with him. “I even think when I sleep.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Her eyes moved over his face again as it grew closer to 6 am and her internal morning alarm. She wanted to ask him for more information on his parole contract. She wanted to ask him what would count against his final strike because she wanted to ensure that nothing else happened between now and December 21st – but he looked so relaxed and calm. She didn’t want to ruin it by bringing up a serious topic when they had another long day ahead of them and they were running out of time before they needed to get ready.

So instead, she asked something else that she’d been wondering.

“Have you purposely been matching your outfits to mine?” she asked, arching her brow in question. She felt him shift a fraction and his eyes darted away from her as he cleared his throat.

“Weasley sent me a copy of your itinerary with colours marked next to each day,” Malfoy said quietly before his eyes moved back to hers. “Or more specifically – Potter gave it to me, but Weasley gave it to him. It’s tradition in wizarding culture for people to coordinate their outfits if they are attending an event together–“

Malfoy hesitated a moment before his eyes seemed to soften.

“Weasley wanted you to blend in as much as possible – she said that you were really nervous, so she made me promise to do it – well, she got Potter to make me promise to do it.”

A soft smile tugged at her lips.

“And _don’t_ thank me for doing it,” he said quickly. “I wasn’t–“

“Thank you,” she cut him off and he glared at her.

“I just said–”

“And you _knew_ that I wasn’t going to listen so I’m not sure why you bothered,” she said firmly, her eyes narrowing into a glare to match his own. Whatever this strange new relationship was, there was still an underlying level of tension as they both fought against their natural instinct to snap at each other. She felt his hand tighten on hers as he scowled at her, the force growing as the silent seconds ticked by. “Are you trying to break it?”

“ _What_?” his voice was clipped and then his eyes widened in realization. “Sorry.”

He dropped his hold on her hand only for her to take it back just as he had done a moment ago and she ran her thumb over his fingers. She watched his expression soften with hers as they both exhaled deeply. A second later the alarm sounded in her head to signal that it was now 6 am.

“I need to go get ready,” Hermione said quietly as the wind picked up and the snowflakes above them began to swirl.

“I’ll meet you at 8:15 am,” Malfoy said softly.

She nodded, giving him a small almost shy smile as she untangled herself from him and slipped off the cushion to go back inside. She summoned her clothes and heels wordlessly, casting a silent warming charm over herself as she walked while trying not to think about the fact that she was stark naked and unglamoured as she crossed the balcony. She could feel his eyes on her as the snow began to collect in her hair before she moved inside through the open door and made her way to her room.

She got ready in a daze, her body moving automatically as she ordered food, set her glamours, showered, did her hair, makeup and pulled on her favourite black dress. Today was a combination of panels and presentations and yet she couldn’t even bring herself to be nervous. It seemed to hardly even matter given everything that she’d learned the previous night. Her mind floated back to Malfoy and the conditions of his parole. She felt like a veil had been lifted and she could finally see the entirety of her surroundings.

Every conversation with him played through her head as she got ready. She thought over everything that Harry had told her, everything that her boss had said to her about these functions and everything that he _hadn’t_ said. A new form of anger had started to burn in the pit of her stomach the second that she’d left Malfoy’s side and came into the warmth of the hotel. It made her pulse quicken and her stomach knot as thought after thought raced through her mind and her anger grew.

Yet for the first time in a very long time it felt appropriately directed. Sure she was disappointed in _herself_ for having let things get this far – but she was now incredibly angry with her boss. She was angry with the Ministry. She was angry that Malfoy was being toyed with when he had so blatantly and so clearly changed. She was angry that Harry hadn’t been allowed to say anything and she was pissed that he was now only one strike away from going back to Azkaban – possibly for life.

Her jaw clenched tight as she pushed herself up from the small desk where she’d eaten breakfast and wordlessly summoned her black heels and began stepping into them. If there was one thing that she was incredibly good at it was thinking and solving problems – she viewed them as a single entity and if there was one thing that she did not tolerate it was injustice.

Even within the past years with her misuse of occlumency and detachment from the world around her she _still_ solved problems and thought things through on a level that most people seemed incapable of comprehending. And this was no different – this was just another problem that needed to be resolved, one that she would make _sure_ was resolved and she already had an idea how.

She felt her shoulders roll back reflexively as she stood to her full height after putting on her heels. Her back straightening as her chin lifted and she glared at her reflection in the mirror.

For the first time in years she felt like her head was clear, her vision unobstructed – she could see _every_ single detail and _every_ single piece of the puzzle before her. She was finally – fully and entirely present.

“This shit ends here,” she whispered, her voice low and harsh as she stared at her reflection. She felt a strange confident calm roll through her body as she stepped away from the mirror and made her way out into the hall before her final alarm sounded.

(To be continued…)

-x-x-

Sorry for the delay friends! Spent a lot of time making masks over the last two weeks. Also – big news! I finished a final edit and compilation of my seven short romantic stories and got my first ‘book’ done! It was so much work! It’s 323 pages, AHH!

Let’s be real guys… it’s smut. But! Nonetheless I am incredibly tickled pink with it and I even got a fancy cover :)

On an unrelated and yet related side note:

I loveeeeee you <3


	14. The Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – stuck together for five days… things are bound to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates irregularly (Sorry!) The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

_She felt her shoulders roll back reflexively as she stood to her full height after putting on her heels. Her back straightening as her chin lifted and she glared at her reflection in the mirror._

_For the first time in years she felt like her head was clear, her vision unobstructed – she could see every single detail and every single piece of the puzzle before her. She was finally – fully and entirely present._

_“This shit ends here,” she whispered, her voice low and harsh as she stared at her reflection. She felt a strange confident calm roll through her body as she stepped away from the mirror and made her way out into the hall before her final alarm sounded._

Monday’s events were split between discussion panels and presentations. The first half of the day was the panels. Hermione was escorted by Malfoy from room to room much like the last time to participate in varying discussions regarding greenhouse growing issues, storage modifications and, of course, heated conversation on the issues that the Herbology Association had with the Ministry and the legislation which impacted their operations. It was the classic issue of the greenhouses wanting to be able to do whatever it was they wanted in order to yield the best crops and gain the most profit, versus the Ministry who were trying to ensure vulnerable lands were protected, magical wildlife was minimally impacted and groundwater wasn’t contaminated. And, because Hermione and Malfoy were there representing the Ministry, they were tangled right in the thick of it – with the conversation circling around them like nifflers on gold.

Hermione responded to questions, took notes, provided clarifications on legislation, advice on compliance and agreed to take back several key discussion points to the Ministry for further investigation based on the feedback and input given by the greenhouse owners during the meetings. It was busy, hectic and slightly overwhelming. But all in all, the panels went well. Or at least Hermione thought they had. She’d kept her head held high the entire time, the tone of her voice was level and calm, her eyes focused while a faint smile graced her lips as she spoke with person after person all while mentally reminding herself that she was _better_ than everyone there.

She didn’t actually believe it.

Anyone who knew Hermione knew that she was modest, humbled – a ‘ _know-it-all’_? Sure, of course she was – she’d always been a know-it-all. But she had _never_ thought herself better than anyone else for having a ton of information stored in her mind or for being able to wield it like a weapon or use it to her advantage. Knowing stuff was just who she was on a fundamental level, but she’d never believed that she was better than anyone despite what some people might think. There was a difference between having confidence in the information that you knew and being arrogant – and Hermione Granger was not arrogant.

In fact, in a lot of ways, over the last two weeks Hermione had come to realize that her confidence was actually quite fragile _and_ she sort of hated herself – deeply, to the core of her being. She’d become someone that she didn’t want to be, and her life had wound up going down a dead-end road without her even realizing it. She’d grown cold, detached, void of emotion and a shell of her former self stretched too thin and barely alive as she went through the motions of life all while mistaking anger as passion and exhaustion as hard work and determination.

At some point she’d lost herself, she’d lost her spark and she’d become buried under the emotional baggage that she carried from the war. Weakened by the stress from her unrealistic job and crushed by all the other stunted emotions she’d buried since the war that she’d never properly dealt with. It had worn her down, run her ragged and not only left her drained – but it had also put her and her career at risk. It had put _Malfoy_ at risk and she’d not even realized it – before two weeks ago she wouldn’t have even cared because her misuse of occlumency had rendered her ability to grow as a person impossible and she’d never truly moved on with her life.

But enough was enough.

She’d been serious that morning when she’d glared at her reflection, looking in disgust at the person she’d become and feeling something deep within her soul ignite – as if in that single moment she could feel and see her inner spark bursting back to life as she decided she was done. She was serious. She’d meant what she’d said to Malfoy and for the first time in years she _wanted_ to change. She wanted to try, she wanted to fix this before it was too late, and she wanted to live her life in full once more – not as an emotionally crippled wreck.

She wanted to feel alive.

She wanted to care, and she wanted to _actually_ make a difference.

She wanted Malfoy – why she wasn’t yet entirely sure, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t deny the pull that she felt towards him and she could definitely no longer deny that there was _something_ between them after what had happened last night. She’d bore her soul to him. She’d let him in and he’d done the same – putting all their cards on the table, all the ugly, all the hurt, all the pain and all the mistakes of the past – and then they’d chosen to go ahead despite it. She’d consciously decided to reach up to him and pull him into that kiss, to tug his body closer and let him claim her fully – passionately, and with a desire like she’d never felt before.

This was no longer hate fucking. It was no longer fucking at all, and it could no longer be passed off as a fling, a mistake or a temporary lapse in judgement.

This was _something_ , and she wanted it – so she would fight to keep whatever it was because it was the right thing to do, it was what she wanted to do – and because Malfoy deserved a shot at a free life, away from people manipulating him and trying to weasel him into making a mistake.

And because she wanted the chance to know him. She wanted the chance to see where this went after she cleaned herself up and got her shit together. She already had a first draft outline of a plan to ensure that his life was not ended by some fucking dipshit on the Wizengamot who thought they were judge jury and executioner pulling the strings behind the scenes. All she needed to do was implement it. And to do that – she needed to get through this HAAGS conference, _and_ she needed to see Bennett once more.

So, she did _exactly_ what Malfoy had told her to do – she pretended.

She pretended that she was better, she told herself it was true, and she fought back the discomfort she felt at the thought as it echoed in her head. She imagined that she was confident, comfortable and not a broken ragged person barely keeping herself together and at risk of a second mental break. She spoke clearly, calmly, confidently and held herself tall. This was a game after all, and Hermione was good at games. She excelled with logic and all she had to do was think of this conference like a puzzle and put the pieces where they fit. She carried herself entirely different than how she had Friday night when she’d all but cowered at Malfoy’s side while he steered her around and tried to make her look like she belonged while she wished she was anywhere else in the world and felt no more than an inch tall.

And the shift in dynamic around her was undeniable.

Older wizards stopped staring at her like she was a piece of meat as she walked by and moved from panel to panel. People seemed to listen with sincere concentration as she spoke to them and, to her utter disbelief and surprise, it became easier. As each hour passed it felt less like pretend and more like real confidence. Her nerves started to fade, the anxious feeling in her gut began to subside and her ability to capture the room’s attention came more naturally.

People remembered her from the last panel discussions and each time she tried to leave a room to move to the next panel she and Malfoy were followed and bombarded with more questions than they had time to answer. Twice Malfoy politely turned people away – stating that they could contact the Ministry to set up an appointment with Miss Granger if they had any additional questions while his warm hand burned against the back of her favourite black dress and he gently pushed her to the next room.

By the time lunch arrived, she no longer felt like she was a fraud.

She was still nervous, and she knew she still stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison to Malfoy who breezed through every situation thrown at him like it was as easy as breathing. But for the first time since arriving, she didn't feel like an idiot. She didn’t feel like people were staring at her or outright judging her and she found that sitting with her head held high didn't feel so ridiculous. In fact, it felt right – because she wasn’t stupid. She _did_ know more than _most_ of the people here and being afraid of these people or intimidated by the fact that they knew what fucking _fork_ to use at dinnertime was ridiculous. Sure, they could out dine her. Fine, they could waltz circles around her and they knew the minute differences between formal titles and when to use them – but she knew things they wanted.

She could make them money

She knew how to create wards to save their crops and charms to improve their storage. She could design a network of self-monitoring control which would not only keep out pesky creatures and meet legal requirements – but would also automate several of their labour-intensive crops. She could improve their yields, she could tell them how to re-use crop waste that they’d thought held no value, she could tell them how to use magical creatures to their benefit and how to stop damaging their soil and expending exorbitant costs to correct it.

She had more value than 99% of the people at this conference – and they were starting to realize it.

And so was she.

It fueled the fire that seemed to be burning in her chest as her spark flared brighter than it had in years. She felt like a phoenix reborn from the ashes of her former self as she rapidly answered questions people directed her way all while keeping the details close to her chest and not giving away too much for free because she needed them to see her as useful. She needed to _maintain_ her value. And it added to her real confidence, it was what gave her power in the room and it was what she needed in order for her plan to be successful.

All the while she implemented these changes and acted the part that she needed to play she couldn’t help but feel like Malfoy was staring at her. He was participating in the discussions and doing his job perfectly as always – he never missed a beat and no one else would notice it. But Hermione could. She could feel his eyes sliding over her skin, she could _feel_ the way he was watching her closely, taking in her every move and sitting just a fraction nearer to her side. At first, it had made her anxiety spike, her heart was thudding nervously in her chest during the first panel as she faked her confidence and silently waited for him to nudge her with his foot under the table to let her know that she’d done something wrong. But the tap never came.

Not once.

Not for the entire morning and she had to fight down a blush when at one point she felt his hand brush her leg under the table as he gave her knee a gentle squeeze much like he had the last time she’d done something right in the panel discussion. She caught his eye at lunch during the buffet as she talked to Agatha and told the older lady that she would be thrilled to come inspect her greenhouses and provide a report on the upgrades that might be needed to comply with the updates to the Protection Act and the newest additions to the ‘ _Creature Preservation And Natural Habitat Protection_ ’ legislation. He was looking at her strangely, his face was impassive like it usually was when they were surrounded by other people and interacting throughout the day – but it was his eyes. There was something there behind them that she couldn’t put her finger on, it was deep and revered, and it made her heart stutter in her chest as a shiver traced down her spine.

He’d never looked at her like that before. _No one_ had ever looked at her like _that_ before and her brain couldn’t process it. She had to force her eyes back to Agatha after giving him a shy smile, her body feeling warm as she took Agatha’s business card and agreed to contact her about setting up the inspection. She forced her mind to focus as another wizard approached to ask her a question – even though all she really wanted to do at that moment was talk to Malfoy. To ask him if she had done okay and to tell him her plan – she knew that he wouldn’t like it because he seemed set on refusing any assistance offered, but she wanted him to know that she was going to fight for him – that she _was_ fighting for him and he wasn’t going back to Azkaban.

Not on her watch.

Yet getting a moment alone with him seemed an impossible task. She hadn’t even been able to use the restroom without someone cornering her by the sink and asking her more questions as she washed her hands. The two of them had been so engaged in discussions outside the presentation room after lunch that they were some of the last people to enter and were forced to take the seats in the back row near the far-right corner. Which, if Hermione was being honest, was totally fine with her. This afternoon’s presentations were largely advertisements for products and with being near the back it meant that fewer people would try to whisper to them.

She sat silently by his side for the entire first half of the presentations, her sleeved upper arm resting gently against his in the dimly lit room as her eyes remained focused on the front. She did her best to ignore the pain that shot down her spine from sitting so straight all morning and she tried to ignore the tantalizing warmth that seemed to leech from his body into hers. The room was cold, and with her favourite black dress being only just past the knees with quarter length sleeves she could feel a chill running through her body as she fought against the urge to lean into his side. The fact that he smelled fucking perfect sure didn’t help either.

It wasn’t until after the 3 pm tea break that they finally spoke. The crowd in the presentation room had started to thin like it had the last time, people blowing off the conference early to go and get wasted and enjoy the hotel amenities. The two rows before them had all but cleared and when the man six seats away from her finally got up and snuck out they were left nearly alone in the back corner of the room. Hermione felt a small silencing charm enclose around them, her heart fluttered as he shifted, his calf pressing up against hers though their eyes remained focused upfront as his low voice sounded on her right.

"What's your patronus,” Malfoy whispered, his deep baritone sent a shiver down her spine and she had to fight against her urge to turn and look at him directly as her brow furrowed in confusion.

“ _What_?” she whispered back, barely moving her lips as she titled her head towards him.

“Your patronus, what is it?”

“An otter,” Hermione whispered, her brow furrowing further in confusion. She knew that Malfoy had seen it not only in school but also at work. In the first month that he’d taken on his job, he’d come into her office to scream at her over a proposal error only moments after she’d cast a patronus to send to Ginny. The silver otter had swirled around him, annoying him further, before it ran out of the office. “You know that you’ve seen it.”

“I know,” came Malfoy’s whispered reply and then she felt his eyes on her. “I was wondering if _you_ knew because I was wondering what the hell you did with Granger.”

She snorted softly at his words as her head shifted a fraction and her eyes met his. She felt her breath catch in her chest as she took in the sight of him. He was perfect, like always, and he was looking at her with the same expression she’d seen during lunch. His eyes were examining her, scanning over her like he was desperately trying to take her in and she realized what it was that she saw in his eyes. Malfoy was _impressed_ – still so incredibly Malfoy: contained, controlled and impeccably handsome – but it seemed almost like he was at a loss as to how to take in the shift in her behaviour. Clearly, her ‘fake it until I make it’ approach had been effective, the small changes that she’d felt weren’t just in her head because Malfoy had seen it too and the look in his eyes confirmed it now.

“I'm serious Granger,” he whispered his voice dropping lower. Hermione blushed, unconsciously biting her lip and shifting nervously on her chair. If not for the dark and the silencing charm she would be worried that someone might have seen them speaking during the presentation – though then again she’d seen numerous people in the audience doing it blatantly without even trying to hide it, so it seemed to be the norm even if she did think it was a bit rude to the presenter. “You did well this morning – you should be proud.”

His praise was like a balm against the small remaining anxiety that she had, it made her heart flutter, her mind revel and a surge of emotion wash through her body as she flushed a deeper shade of red. In the past, she would have occluded the feelings – for they were far too strong, far too confusing – a mix of heat and lust, and desire tumbled with something deeper, something softer that made her want to squish in tighter to his side. She fought against the urge to do so, but she did not occlude anything – instead, she once again took Malfoy’s advice and simply allowed herself to feel, letting each and every emotion wash over her body without obsessing over any of them.

It was hard.

 _Incredibly_ hard.

Like trying to retrain her brain and body and undo everything that she’d taught it to do over the years and allowed it to get away with. But she pushed through it and felt a shy smile grace her lips as they stared at each other another moment longer before they both gazed back up at the stage. Slowly, cautiously, and without thinking too much on why she wanted to do it, Hermione shifted her leg against his in the dark and then desperately tried not to obsess over the reason why her heart felt like it was exploding when he returned the gesture and she felt his thigh press against her gently.

-x-x-

“Oh, Miss. Ganger, Mr. Malfoy – a word if you would?” the voice of a small witch wearing bright blue formal robes sounded near the left and both Hermione and Malfoy stopped in their tracks. The presentations had ended and the large room had been formally released to go enjoy dinner at one of the many restaurants in the hotel – though about half of the people had already filtered out of the room on their own accord to go drinking.

“Of course, Amelia,” Malfoy’s smooth voice echoed near Hermione’s side and she felt the familiar touch of his hand on her back as he steered them out of the hall and toward the wall where the short witch was standing.

It was bizarre how normal it felt now when he touched her to guide her as they walked. The first few times that he’d done it, it had made her uncomfortable and agitated – she’d kind of hated it. Now, even though she tried to deny it, not only did she not mind it – a piece of her sort of craved it. His warmth was like a comfort, reassuring and strong. She was sure it had to do with the fact that he’d run his hands over every inch of her body last night and she’d absolutely loved it, and she was now starting to associate his touch with _that_ moment – with something deep and meaningful, instead of something angry and harsh.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Mr. Malfoy – but did you and Miss Granger have dinner plans tonight?” the short witch who Hermione now knew was Amelia asked them politely. Hermione noted that she was holding a clipboard and it looked like she had schedules clipped to it. It gave the impression that she was not an attendee and instead might be an organizer. “Because Mr. Bennett was hoping that you two might join him for dinner in the French restaurant at 7:00 pm.”

“Of course,” Malfoy gave the woman a polite nod. “We would be delighted.”

“Excellent,” the witch gave Hermione a small smile and quickly tapped the clipboard she was holding with her wand. Two small checkmarks appeared then faded into the page. “Please arrive five minutes beforehand to be seated – the dress code is formal. Mr. Bennett will meet you there.”

With that, the witch nodded politely once more before quickly entering the stream of people shifting toward the exits.

“Malfoy,” Hermione muttered quietly, keeping the faint smile on her lips as he steered her back into the crowd of people and shifted them toward the lifts. “I don’t have a spare formal dress.”

She felt his fingers shift on her back as they stepped into one of the smallest lifts and closed the doors behind them, finally giving them a moment of privacy in the tiny enclosed space.

“Don’t you have a formal dress for tomorrow’s closing dinner?” Malfoy asked her, shifting by her side to look at her.

“Well yeah – the blue one,” Hermione nodded as she felt the anxiety and insecurity that she’d managed to escape all day flitter back into her core. As much as she’d done well today and gained some real confidence she was still much more fragile than she let on – and she could feel her pulse start to quicken with insecurity. “But if I wear it to dinner tonight then I don’t have a dress for tomorrow. I assume it is _unacceptable_ to wear an outfit twice?”

Malfoy snorted, some amusement flashing in his eyes. “That would be putting it lightly.”

“Well then I’m screwed for tomorrow,” Hermione let out a groan as she leaned back against the wall. She could hear the annoyance in her voice as she glared at the wall across from her. “I knew I should have packed a fucking spare – but we had a hard enough time as it was getting this lot together with such short notice.”

She gestured down at her dress with a frown.

“Fuck,” she sighed. “I can try and transfigure one of my outfits to–“

“Absolutely not,” Malfoy cut her off firmly as the elevator door dinged and he steered her out. She knew better than to pitch a fit in the hallway now, she’d learned her lesson, so instead she just glared at him as they walked down the hall, his hand still firmly planted on her back until they got to their doors and Hermione tugged out her key. Unlocking it quickly and stepping inside she waited until the door was closed before she turned around to face him.

“Why not?” she countered her brow furrowed in irritation. It wasn’t her fault that she was in this situation. She’d packed exactly what she’d needed plus a few extra business formal outfits for the day time events. But she’d been massively limited on finding a spare formal dress that was comparable to her Friday, Tuesday and Sunday evening gowns because she’d simply not had time. As it was, she’d raided Ginny’s closet and scoured through Diagon Alley. Her back up plan, if she’d needed it, _was_ to transfigure her dress – she’d just not anticipated needing to do it because she didn’t think that anyone was going to ask her to another dinner outside of the required ones. “You know my transfiguration is more than adequate, Malfoy – no one will even notice it!”

“Someone will,” Malfoy stated bluntly as he stared at her hard. “It’s not a matter of how _good_ your transfiguration skills are Granger – these people know designer brands. There is a reason why Weasley sent you with what she did, you can’t just alter a dress and expect it to slide by unnoticed. Not here.”

“Okay _fine_ ,” Hermione felt her jaw tighten as she kicked off her heels in frustration and moved her way into her sitting room as Malfoy followed along behind her. “Then what the fuck am I supposed to do? All the shops will be closed by the time dinner is done tonight and I won’t be able to sneak out tomorrow to get anything.”

“Weasley knows your size right?” Malfoy asked her slowly, his eyes racking over her form in a calculating manner. Hermione tried to ignore the shiver she felt at the critical look he gave her and the insecure thoughts that fluttered through her mind on reflex. Yes, Malfoy had seen her naked and yes, Malfoy had fucked her, but a piece of her would always doubt that she was anything comparable to the women he could get or the ones that he had in the past. She wasn’t self-conscious of her looks exactly, she knew she was fine – possibly even rather pretty when her unruly curls were managed and she didn’t have massive bags under her eyes that made her look like death itself. She just knew she wasn’t a fucking super model – she wasn’t perfect porcelain like he was.

“Yeah – we’re basically the same size except –“ Hermione cut herself off, a blush skirting up her neck as Malfoy continued to watch her in wait.

“Except what?” he asked, his voice still serious, evidently focused on the problem at hand.

“I’m taller,” Hermione swallowed, averting her eyes to the ground. She knew that feeling insecure was ridiculous given that Malfoy knew what she had under her clothes. He’d fucked her plenty and touched her everywhere. But still, she couldn’t help but drop her voice to a mutter as she spoke the remaining words. “And her boobs are bigger.”

Malfoy didn’t react to her comment and instead he just continued to stare at her pensively for a moment before he swiftly turned and made for the door between their rooms. Hermione’s eyes darted to him as panic flooded her body – _wait why is he leaving!? What the fuck?!_

“Wait, Malfoy–“

“Get ready,” Malfoy stopped at the door, glancing back to her and evidently seeing the panic in her eyes because he paused, his hand freezing on the handle. He hesitated a moment before he slowly turned and made his way back over toward her. She could see the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he carefully and slowly reached out to her and gripped both of her shoulders reassuringly. “Dinner is in twenty-five minutes, get ready – put your blue dress for Tuesday on. I’ll meet you in the hall in twenty minutes. Everything is going to be fine Granger – just keep behaving like how you did today, and you’ll be more than fine. I promise.”

“Okay,” the word fell from her lips like a whisper as he squeezed her shoulders and then rapidly made his way back to the door. She watched him leave, her heart beating like a drum in her chest as the door closed and the expression on his face still lingered in her mind’s eye. He’d looked determined, resolved – like he had a mission he was going to complete but simply had no time to share it with her – yet instead of walking out entirely he’d seen her concern and come back to her.

 _Malfoy_ had come back to _her_.

Hermione felt her stomach knot and her hands clenched at her sides as she closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. The reality was she hardly had enough time to change and get ready – she didn’t have the time to do anything about her situation and she would need to trust Malfoy. If she didn’t nothing changed, she would still be screwed for the closing dinner and would potentially be a laughing-stock by wearing the same outfit or altering a dress she already had. It was just yet another reminder of why she hated high society and functions like this – why the hell did it matter if she re-wore an outfit?

She let out a sigh and forced her body to move to her bedroom and she began reapplying her makeup and fixing her hair.

Regardless of whether she liked it and regardless of whether or not she thought it was stupid – it was how this event worked. It was how this world of rich fuckers who had nothing better to do than judge people on their appearances and drink their faces off each and every night worked. She hated it – but she _needed_ to participate – not only to save herself and her job, but to save Malfoy as well. If she was going to be successful and prevent him from getting thrown back into Azkaban – she had to calm down and do this. She had to remain in control and not let her anger get the best of her.

Nineteen minutes later Hermione stepped outside her door, locking it behind her just a second before Malfoy exited his own wearing a fitted black suit and a blue tie, perfectly coordinated with her long flowing dress except for the fact that his tie was still undone and he didn’t look fully put together. She noticed the way he glanced down the hall to make sure they were still alone before he gestured for her to follow him to the elevator. But she waited until the doors closed to speak to him.

“Where did you go?” Hermione asked him, her eyes skimming over his perfectly fitted suit and trying to ignore the curl of desire in the pit of her stomach as she looked at him. He was rapidly tying his tie – she’d never seen anyone do it so quickly or so perfectly by hand.

“To Potters,” Malfoy said as he quickly straightened the silk fabric and clipped it to his crisp white shirt.

“You ran back to the lobby and _apparated_ to Harry’s?” Hermione said in disbelief as she watched him button his vest and pull a pocket square from his pant’s pocket, flicking it into the air and casting some sort of wordless spell the fabric folded itself neatly before slipping into his pocket and looking perfect. Malfoy had apparently been crunched for time because he then pulled out his cuff links and magically fastened them in place.

“Of course not,” Malfoy said calmly, not an ounce of panic showing on his face as he finished getting ready in the elevator. The man exuded fucking confidence, even when he was in a pinch and was at risk of being caught unprepared. “I never would have had time to _run_ back to the lobby to apparate _and_ be ready in time. I borrowed the concierge’s floo network, there is a fireplace on every floor – I flooed to the main lobby _then_ apparated to Potter’s.”

Hermione felt her head swim as she stared at him in disbelief. “They just let you use their floo network?”

“I rather like to think they insisted,” he smirked eyeing her as he ran a hand through his hair then straightened the cuff links. “This hotel prides itself on service Granger, they were more than happy to help.”

“And what did you say to Harry?” Hermione asked him curiously.

“Nothing – I spoke to Weasley. She’ll get you a dress and have it delivered here for tomorrow night,” Malfoy inhaled deeply and finally stopped fidgeting with his outfit. She could see the way his back straightened just a fraction more and he resumed his impenetrably professional and formal stance.

He turned to look at her, taking in her long flowing blue gown and her pinned-up hair. Even with her tall thin silver heels she only came up to his chest and he still towered over her. His broad well-muscled shoulders like a solid wall before her as she watched him take her in. She could see a flicker of desire in his eyes before his gaze skimmed back up her body and locked to her eyes once more.

“That dress suits you,” he said quietly and she felt a shudder run through her body at his words. Then a small smirk played across his lips as his eyes narrowed at her a fraction. “Any _other_ questions Granger?”

Hermione swallowed, her heart beating way too quickly.

“Yeah,” she said slowly, taking a step towards him and slowly reaching up to his tie. It was still a bit off-center and she carefully straightened it, placing a light sticking charm to hold it in place as her words quietly left her lips. “Why do you tie your ties by hand – there is a spell for that you know, Malfoy.”

“Because,” Malfoy said slowly, his smirk growing wider as she begrudgingly took a step back. The elevator had chimed to alert them of their arrival and as the doors started to open Malfoy placed his hand gently on her lower back. “Some things are meant to be done by hand Granger – they’re just better that way.”

She couldn’t help the small smirk that played across her lips as he guided her from the elevator and out into the small crowd of people. They arrived on the main restaurant floor aside from the rooftop and the space before the entrance was littered with people meeting up before being seated for their reservations. Malfoy walked her past everyone else, bypassing the short line and bringing them directly up to the podium exactly on time. They came to a stop before a well-dressed young wizard standing behind the podium.

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger – excellent, your table is ready. If you would please follow me.”

Hermione followed alongside Malfoy, finding herself more and more thankful for his hand on her back as she moved past countless beautiful tables and extremely formally dressed looking witches and wizards. There was no way that any of her spare outfits would have been suitable for tonight and she was glad that she’d not even tried to convince Malfoy they would be. She would have looked like an idiot – there were people in here dressed so glamorously they would have given royalty a run for their money. As it was, they bypassed them all, following the swift-moving man past the white clothed tables and candles, past the violins that played and into a smaller room at the back. Hermione had to fight back a reaction as she realized that the entire exterior wall was glass, looking out to the river like their rooms and dimly lit candles danced slowly around the ceiling to light the room. It was beautiful and luxurious, and she felt her stomach knot uncomfortably.

 _Thank fuck this is all expenses paid_ , she thought as she plastered a smile on her face as they approached the table where Bennett was seated. _Otherwise, I would never be able to afford this place_.

“Draco!” Bennett’s warm voice split the air and he stood from the table as they approached. Hermione noticed a rather kind looking witch who had been seated at his side and she wondered if it might be his wife. “Miss Granger – wonderful, wonderful, thank you so much for joining us.”

“Bennett,” Malfoy said warmly, one of his rare smiles splitting across his face and he moved forward to greet the man, their handshake was friendly and Hermione waited politely to shake the man’s hand as Malfoy finished his greeting. “Thank you so much for inviting us – it’s been too long since we’ve had dinner. Anne – it’s a pleasure to see you again, how are your grandchildren?”

“Oh, they are just wonderful Draco, thank you for asking,” the woman who was standing beside Bennett replied as she shook Malfoy’s hand and then pulled him into a warm hug. It was the second hug that Hermione had seen Malfoy give and it was still just as foreign a sight as the last time. “And how is your mother – Mason says she is doing well.”

“She is,” Malfoy nodded and stepped aside so Hermione could greet the woman next. Hermione made a quick mental note that Bennett’s first name was Mason. “I know she misses your company though, she plans to invite you to tea in the next week I believe.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Anne grinned at him and then turned to Hermione. She looked kind, her smile was genuine like Bennett’s and Hermione found that she instantly liked the woman. “And you must be Miss Granger – oh it’s a pleasure to meet you in person. I’ve heard so much about you, Mason said that you’re truly gifted with wards and charm work and that’s saying something – my husband doesn’t hand out compliments unless they are deserved.”

“Oh,” Hermione fought down a blush as she shook the woman’s hands. “Thank you, Mrs. Bennett – that’s very kind.”

“Oh – please, call me Anne – Mrs. Bennett is his mother and it makes me feel old. Here take a seat – we’ve ordered some wine to get started.”

Hermione waited for Malfoy to pull out her chair before sitting, noticing that Anne did the same with Bennett but that the lady gave her a look as if to say ‘ _like we can’t pull out our own chairs_ ’ and Hermione smiled then the woman winked.

 _Yes,_ Hermione thought as she sat carefully straight in her chair and began to follow Malfoy’s lead. _I like her a lot._

The conversation started out polite and formal, Anne asked Hermione what apprenticeships she did post Hogwarts and how she enjoyed working for the Ministry while Malfoy and Bennett talked shop. Anne asked Hermione if she was still close with Harry and for the first time in Hermione’s life, she found the question neither prying nor annoying. There was something about the way that Anne had said it that made Hermione think the woman _wasn't_ digging for information and instead – Hermione wholeheartedly felt like she was just making polite conversation and was asking because she seemed to genuinely care what Hermione’s responses were. So, she answered truthfully and said yes. Which made Anne smile broadly and say ‘ _Oh I’m so glad dear – you went through a lot together during that war from the sounds of things. I’m glad that you stayed close.’_

Hermione felt Malfoy’s eyes shift to her at that moment, but she wasn’t able to look his way because Anne quickly changed the topic and began asking her about the mooncalf performance at the Annual Remediation Banquet while Hermione insisted that the woman address her by her first name. It wasn’t until dinner had arrived and they began to eat that the conversation shifted into a four-way dynamic and Hermione struggled to remain calm and composed while ensuring she used the right cutlery and contributed to the conversation properly.

After all, she needed this to go well. She’d been wanting the chance to speak with Bennett again because he was key to her plan and the opportunity had, unbelievably, just been handed to her. She couldn’t afford to fuck this up.

“One of these weekends you simply must come to the estate to visit – Laurie has been asking about you. I think she misses you,” Anne said to Malfoy as she took a sip from her wine glass.

“That would be lovely,” Malfoy said warmly as he carefully held his glass before him. “Things have been a bit hectic lately, but I think I could find some time before the holidays.”

Hermione ignored the small pain she felt in her chest at his words. She knew he’d said _before_ Christmas because a part of him was still resigned to accept the fate of returning to Azkaban before his probation was up.

“Excellent,” Anne grinned and turned toward Hermione. “Laurie is our granddaughter, she just turned 8 and she adores Draco.”

“Only because he practices quidditch with her,” Bennett laughed cutting another strip off the steak before him and grinning at Malfoy. “And because you let her win every time.”

“She’s quite talented,” Malfoy’s nonchalance did little to wipe the image of him playing quidditch with a child from Hermione’s mind. She found herself staring at him with her wine poised before her lips as her brow quirked. She couldn’t see it. Malfoy – the man who was perpetually dressed in three-piece suits, flying around on a broom and playing quidditch for fun… it drew a blank and the only image she could come up with resulted in him once again looking like his fifteen-year-old self in Slytherin quidditch robes. She’d not seen him fly a broom since then and she just could _not_ see it now. Did he still play quidditch? Did he still practice? What were his hobbies?

The questions flooded her mind as a ridiculous imagine of him racing around on a broom in a suit fluttered through her head. She had to fight to keep her face straight and instead turned back to her wine to avoid laughing.

“You should come to visit the estate sometime as well Hermione – we would absolutely love it if you could. I think you would be interested in the greenhouses and the reserve land we’ve committed to protect on the Eastern side,” Anne said to her as Hermione sipped her wine.

“You have reserve land?” Hermione asked, her interest piquing.

“Yes, over 300 hundred acres – I had it declared a natural conservation area and have been keeping it preserved for the last two decades,” Anne said brightly. “You could bring your significant other with you as well, we would be honoured to have you as guests.”

“Oh,” Hermione faltered slightly but managed to keep the smile on her face as she laughed awkwardly. “I uh – I actually don’t have a significant other.”

“Good for you dear,” Anne said firmly and to Hermione’s surprise, the woman looked like she meant it. She’d been expecting the typical awkward conversation to follow where they looked at her like she was pathetic and sympathetically told her that she would find someone _eventually_ – all while they silently judged her and wondered what was wrong with her. But not Anne. Anne seemed to think that it was great news. “I always found it irritating – the wizarding tradition of trying to marry off young. It’s ridiculous given how long we live. There is plenty of time to find someone later and frankly, I think you will be much happier having waited rather than rushed into some Hogwarts romance – those rarely turn out. You need to grow and become your own person first before you get married or have kids, it’s always surprising who you end up with later in life. But that said – we would love for you to visit for a weekend. You could come with Draco, or bring your dear friend Harry if you'd like – or simply come yourself. It would make for a lovely weekend.”

Hermione stared at the woman for a moment, words lost to her until she felt the gentle nudge of Malfoy’s leg bumping against her own under the table and she stuttered out her words. “Yes o-of course that would be lovely, Anne, thank you. I would love to see the reserve.”

“Excellent,” Anne grinned and then Bennett chuckled at her side.

“You’ll have to forgive my wife, she truly does love visitors and tries to invite anyone she can,” Bennett smiled at Hermione. “Now how have you found the conference so far? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, very much so,” Hermione felt herself sit up straighter, this was her opening. She wasn’t the best at socializing while trying to play a political game, but she was going to give it a try. “I’ve enjoyed speaking with everyone here – they have a lot of good insight and questions regarding some of the legislation and it has been quite insightful to get their input. It’s something I plan to bring back to the Ministry actually – I believe we could do a better job at getting their input ahead of time and working more closely with the Herbology Association before legislation is put out. It would help the greenhouses to adapt and give them more time to make required changes as opposed to making the changes once the bills are already passed.

“We were quite busy during the panels discussing potential work,” Hermione said calmly, keeping her voice light and polite even though she felt her nerves flaring wildly. “I ended up with a surprising number of business cards and requests. Some of the items can be covered by the Ministry through my department but several others might need to be private endeavours or could even require a new work front through the Ministry so I can offer my services. I have a feeling that the next several months are going to be _extremely_ busy for our department. I might need to talk to Mr. Todgekins about getting some additional help.”

“It sounds like you have been very busy,” Bennett nodded in approval, but she could see the gears turning in his head as he stared at her. “How many requests did you get?”

“Roughly fifty,” Hermione said glancing at Malfoy as if to confirm. She already knew the number, and _he_ knew she did but Malfoy nodded to her anyways as he took a sip from his wine and eyed her curiously. She knew that he was wondering what she was up to, because she didn’t have a doubt in her mind that he _knew_ she was up to something. She rarely spoke so openly and although she’d not said it in a bragging way, she had definitely stressed the fact that she’d been asked to assist with a large amount of work. “But that doesn’t include a few of the smaller requests that I received to potentially review some ward work on a contract basis unrelated to greenhouse operations.”

“I see,” Bennett said slowly, his eyes calculating. “That’s great news – not only successful for your department but also good headway toward what is hopefully better relations between the Ministry and the Herbology Association. I dare say – in the past, it has not always been the best and we have struggled to have our voices heard.”

Hermione nodded and sipped her wine as the man looked at her for another long moment. _Take the bait – come on, please take the bait_. She didn’t want to have to approach him again and ask him directly. She didn’t want to ask him for a favour because she knew Malfoy would lose his shit if she did, but she would if Bennett didn’t make the move she wanted him to – the one she’d set him up for.

“Out of curiosity,” Bennett said slowly. “How many people do you have working on your team in your department?”

“There are ten of us full time,” Hermione said slowly as she set her glass back on the table and met Bennett with an even stare, but her heart was racing once more. He was heading exactly where she wanted him. “Five are on the creature recovery squad and deal with existing operations, I run the proposal creation and law development sections. I have one assistant and one secretary and Mr. Todgekins manages the group and has one secretary.”

“I’m sure he does,” Bennett said slowly, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table and breaking every single dinner rule Malfoy had taught her. Hermione got the impression that Bennett knew _exactly_ the kind of person Mr. Todgekins was and that he knew _precisely_ how little the man did. It was like inviting her here had been both a test and a method to confirm his suspicions. As if Bennett had known that the person truly responsible for completing his work had been ‘locked in the basement’ and ‘hidden away’ as Malfoy had stated in the past. Bennett knew _and_ Bennett wanted her to do his work – not anyone else. He stared at her for another long moment. “Those fifty requests – did that include the one I made?”

“It did,” Hermione nodded, her voice still perfectly calm with a light expression on her face.

“And what are the odds of me getting you to lead that request and see it through to completion if the other 49 requests go through?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Hermione said carefully, watching the older man’s expression closely. He’d not outright called her out on setting him up, but she got the distinct impression that Bennett was a smart man. He knew exactly what she was doing – and he was _willingly_ going with it. “Team assignments would be designated by Mr. Todgekins, I don’t really have any say in it – but typically I work closely with Malfoy on all projects so it would also need to be reviewed with his department’s schedule. It’s possible that we could get assigned to the proposal but with the volume of requests that we have I don’t know what the work distribution will look like going forward and if they hire any new people to accommodate the work load I might be slotted into training the new hires.”

“Well that simply won’t do,” Bennett let out a sigh but then gave her a wry smile, a _knowing_ smile that confirmed her suspicions that he was playing into her hands on purpose. “As I mentioned earlier our window for success gives us until this spring. We would need to begin construction on the greenhouses in February to ensure completion for March to meet the planting requirements for aconite. But – I want _you_ on that proposal. I don’t want a new hire or anyone else. I need someone who _actually_ knows what they are doing and who understands the requirements and that person – is you, Miss Granger. And if you say you worked with Draco on the Dugbog proposal – then that is who you will work with on my aconite proposal as well. I want the same quality as before, the same attention to detail and a solution that will work long-term – I won’t accept anything less. So I want you two working closely together.”

Hermione felt Malfoy’s eyes on her, but she ignored it and kept her gaze focused intently on Bennett. She knew Malfoy had likely already pieced this together and was probably seething and fighting to remain calm at her side.

“Did anyone else help you with the dugbog proposal?” Bennett asked her.

“My assistant helped me to survey the land because I needed extra hands and my secretary completed the formatting and a round of edits.”

“Alright, that’s minor – their input would be minimal. You said you would require four weeks to complete the preliminary report, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“And how long, would you estimate – do you need to complete the preliminary proposal if it was the only thing you were delegated to?”

“Two weeks,” Hermione said, ignoring the bump she felt as Malfoy nudged her foot under the table and the feel of his gaze burning into the side of her head like a laser.

“And let’s say – just for curiosity’s sake that I wanted the full charm work developed, checked and ready to go, should the preliminary report prove promising, before the Christmas break – could you do it?”

Hermione felt Malfoy’s hand brush her leg under the tablecloth, he squeezed her knee hard in a distinct effort to get her attention. But she held her ground and ignored him again, never taking her eyes off Bennett throughout their exchange.

“Yes,” she said evenly, as she forced her body to remain calm. This was going exactly how she’d planned, she just needed to seal the deal. “Provided that Malfoy is available to assist with the project full-time – as he is my primary ward and charm reviewer, and provided that my schedule is cleared – I would be able to complete the preliminary proposal and the entire design by Christmas should you wish to proceed based on the preliminary findings.”

“Excellent,” Bennett’s grin split wide as he sat back in his seat once more and glanced toward his wife. She gave him a firm nod before turning back to smile at Hermione, her eyes flicking between her an Malfoy. If Anne noticed anything strange between them she didn’t say anything, she simply smiled and took a sip of her wine as Bennett lowered his voice so only their table would hear. “My assistant, Amelia, caught wind of another greenhouse expressing interest today in growing aconite for the upcoming season – the old bird wants to try and expand her crops because the shrivelfig industry has just become more complicated and she plans to give me a run for my money. As you know, once the new werewolf legislation goes through in the spring the need for aconite is going to skyrocket and the business will become quite lucrative. I’m looking to become a sole supplier to your St. Mungo’s operations, Draco – you know I have the plot space and the infrastructure already developed to be able to do it. I know the old bird is planning to contact you Miss Granger for a similar assessment – but I refuse to lose to her, not when she stole the idea after speaking with Herbert – the idiot, he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Hermione felt her heart flutter in barely contained excitement, it was all she could do to keep her body from trembling in stress and relief as Bennett said the words that she had been looking for.

“I’ll make some calls,” Bennett said firmly, meeting Hermione’s even stare with a nod. “I’m not going to lose out on this huge opportunity to expand simply because Mr. Todgekins is incapable of managing your schedules. The Ministry is going to need this supply – it’s about more than just money, it’s about setting things right and having a stable supply of wolfsbane potion available to those infected who wish to integrate back into society and have families. It’s not their fault that the disease can be passed genetically, and it shouldn’t limit their lifestyle choices – their children deserve a full life – safe and happy and no different than anyone else. And to do that, we need aconite.”

Bennett reached forward and grabbed his wine glass, pausing briefly before he took a sip to fix Hermione and Malfoy with a level stare.

“You tell your bosses when you get back Wednesday morning that starting first thing Thursday you will be apparating to our Northern greenhouses for a preliminary inspection – or their agreements with the HA are going to suffer,” Bennett said smoothly his voice calm but powerful. His eyes fixed to Malfoy and Hermione felt him shift at her side. “Putting you in M-PaS was the _stupidest_ decision they ever made – of course you can do the job, any idiot can see that, but it’s a bloody waste of your talents son – you belong in potions and research and I plan to tell them just how stupid they are. You’ll be full-time on this – none of this bullshit of working your full-time M-PaS position _while_ doing this job. You have the weight of the HA and others behind you Draco, the PCAB are getting tired of delays – they’re desperate for you to get back into patent design. I need this done, and so does the Ministry. They’d be fools to argue any other way.”

-x-x-

“What the _fuck_ was that!?” Malfoy’s voice was tight as he followed her into her room.

She’d held the door open for him, already knowing that he was going to follow her. He’d not been able to speak to her openly after dinner because they’d ridden in one of the slightly larger elevators back to their hotel floor with Bennett and Anne. As it turned out Bennett and Anne were staying just down the hallway from them. So she knew he would follow her and she’d been waiting for the snap. She could practically feel him bristling in the elevator on the ride down – itching to corner her and demand answers.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, keeping her voice calm as she kicked off her heels and made her way into the living space. She only made it two steps before his hand closed tightly around her arm and he jerked her back around to face him. Her head snapped up to look at him and she could see the anger pouring from his eyes like a wave as he began to loosen his tie with his opposite hand. She’d never seen him look this agitated, this angry – not since the first day they’d fucked when she’d accidentally brought him a half-completed proposal.

He was _livid_ – and he was desperate to get his tie off, viciously undoing the knot as if it were choking him.

“ _Oh no you fucking don’t_ ,” he nearly laughed, his voice hollow and rage filled as his face turned dark and he finally managed to rip off his tie. His fingers immediately began to undo the top two buttons beneath it. “Don’t you _fucking_ dare Granger – _don’t fucking play stupid with me!!_ You know _exactly_ what I mean!”

“I secured more work,” Hermione said tightly, fighting back her natural instinct to react to his aggressive behaviour and scream at him. Her body wanted to shove him, her mouth wanted to snarl at him for being a dick when she was only trying to help but she forced her mind to stay calm and her voice to stay level. Malfoy’s parole was _his_ business and she had just blatantly fucked with it – he was in the right to be upset, even if she disagreed with him about it and she needed to somehow remain level-headed and logical for both of their sake’s. “I did my _job_ Malfoy – the whole point of being here is to gain work and improve relations with the HA while helping them out. Mr. Todgekins has been fucking my department for years I’m simply doing what he should have been doing and trying to –“

“ _DON’T_ fucking lie to me!” Malfoy grit out as he yanked her closer, his top two buttons were finally undone, and his hand dropped to grab her waist tight as his grip on her upper arm grew tighter. His eyes narrowed to a glare, his voice was low, dark and furious. “That had _nothing_ to do with your department.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Hermione said through clenched teeth as she glared up at him and met his heated gaze. “I don’t want you going back to Azkaban.”

“So you’re fucking with my parole!” he practically screamed in her face as he held her and she had to fight not to flinch in his grasp. “What the _fuck_ are you thinking Granger!”

“I’m thinking I _don’t_ want to lose you Malfoy!” she yelled back, jerking against his hold in frustration but not managing to gain any space between them. He was holding her like death and her pathetic attempts to free her arm did nothing. “I’m not _fucking_ with your parole – I’m fucking _helping_ you! Bennett is a friend of your family – he _clearly_ likes you! He clearly _cares_ about you! And so do about a hundred other people out there! If they knew what was happening right now, if they knew that someone was trying to fuck you over and get you to default on your parole contract they would–“

“It’s not their fucking place to know Granger!” he screamed at her and she fought back her urge to smack him. “This is _MY_ problem! I don’t want any fucking favours from _anyone_!”

“I _know!_ ” she screamed groaning out in angry frustration and she desperately tried to calm down. They were falling back into their old habits; it was such an easy groove to slide into but she didn’t want to fight with him. She didn’t want to scream – she desperately wanted to be able to talk about this like normal people who weren’t constantly at each other’s throats. She forced herself to take a deep breath and dropped her voice lower even though it was still just as tense. “That’s why I did the next best thing! I got you a job – I got _us_ a job to keep you busy until your parole ends! It will keep you away from the other departments, away from the office and out of reach of anyone who might be trying to screw you over. You can wait this out, Malfoy! We’ll hardly even be in the office while we work on this project – we can even work in my apartment if we need to just to get through this, it will keep you safe until the 21st and then none of this will matter anymore and you’ll be a free man!”

Malfoy was shaking his head at her, his jaw clenched tight as he glared at her in rage, apparently so angry he was unable to speak so Hermione spoke on, willing him to see how this was a good thing. That she cared – she cared about _him_ and she didn’t want him to fail.

“I didn’t say anything else to him – I _won’t_ say anything else to him,” Hermione said her voice becoming desperate as she stopped tugging against him and instead gripped his suit tightly and leaned into him. “No one is going to question Bennett calling and demanding our assistance – not with the upcoming werewolf legislation! I’ve thought this through, Malfoy, I ran all the scenarios this morning and Bennett’s request is entirely reasonable given the Ministry changes and my upcoming projects list – they’ll _have_ to say yes and no one will even question if I pushed for it.”

Malfoy sighed in frustration and pinched his eyes closed before he dropped his head to look at her once more.

“You don’t get it, Granger,” Malfoy bit out, his voice sounding exhausted and worn, livid and defeated all at once as he stared at her hard. “I _didn’t_ want you to do this – I _didn’t_ want you to be involved in this.”

“I’m not, I just thought that –“

“That what?!” he snapped, his voice breaking slightly as he pulled her closer. “That you could hide me away until Christmas and I would be safe? That you could bend Bennett into conveniently supporting me without him even realizing it – rally the troops to come to my defense? Did you think that you could save me? Protect me from my past and all my fucking shitty decisions and make everything fine?”

“No, I just –“

“Just what Granger – _what_?” something shifted behind his eyes, they looked pained and his expression became like agony as his voice dropped to a low torturous whisper, and yet somehow it echoed in her ears like he was screaming. Somehow it was worse than his yelling. “Did you _seriously_ think that this was going to end well – that I was actually going to come out of this any other way than going back to Azkaban where I belong.”

Hermione felt her body grow stiff as she stared at him, clutching his suit tightly between her fingers as the silence rang in her ears.

“The _second_ they moved me to M-PaS my fate was sealed. Even _if_ you don’t use up the rest of my strikes, they’ll find a way to make it happen. They’ll pay someone off or they will find something _else_ to pin on me to make sure I fail,” Malfoy whispered, his voice hoarse. “This was _never_ going to last – it was never going to work, even with all the effort that Potter has wasted trying to save my ass. And not even with _you_ trying to keep me out of the office or manipulating my associates into unknowingly helping. This was _over_ before it started, and I was a _fucking_ _idiot_ for thinking even for a second that I could be free and start over.”

Hermione’s head started to shake, and she felt a knot form in her stomach as a twisted sickness and desperation circled in her gut.

“No,” she whispered, swallowing hard as her voice grew quiet and broken. “No – you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Granger,” Malfoy’s voice became soft, the anger faded from his eyes as his grip on her loosened. She felt her heart clench painfully at the look he gave her as she continued to cling to him. “I know what you’re trying to do – but I don’t want you to do it. This is my mess – I don’t want to drag anyone else into it.”

“I don’t care,” she couldn’t stop the tremble that started to shake through her body as her eyes started to sting. She could feel a wave of emotion coursing through her and threatening to break her fragile calm and her broken mind as she tried to remain in control.

“There’s no point,” he said softly, and she felt his thumb graze across the fabric of her dress, pressing lightly against her hip and her body shuddered. He was looking at her with a longing and desperate expression – like he knew he was going to have to one day lose what he’d only just gotten. “I don’t want you tangled up in this – this is _exactly_ why I didn’t want to fucking tell you what’s going on because I knew you wouldn’t leave it alone.”

“I don’t care!” she felt a single tear fall from her eye as she glared up at him defiantly. “Let me try–“

“Granger I –“

“ _Please_ ,” she cut him off and pulled him closer. She could see concern circling in his eyes as he stared down at her, his face only inches away from hers now. “Just let me _try_ Malfoy – just let me fucking try – _please_. I know what I’m doing – please just have faith in me. I know I’ve been disconnected and entirely disjointed for years but I promise you I know what I’m doing here. Give me a chance to help – what they’re doing is _wrong_ , it’s _illegal_ and you deserved a fair shot at completing your parole without them manipulating you – and they’ve taken that away from you! If it doesn’t matter anyway and you think you’re going to default regardless, then why do you care if I do this?”

“Because I don’t want you to lose your job over me – if they find out you were trying to help me then –“

“It’s just a job,” she whispered, not caring about the rest of his excuses.

“I don’t want you to get black-marked by the Wizengamot – they will fuck with you and make your life at the Ministry miserable and–“

“Fuck them – they’re fucking dicks,” Hermione countered. She already knew that she didn’t give a shit about any excuse he threw at her. Malfoy may hate himself enough to be resigned to fall victim to the Wizengamot’s dirty and underhanded schemes, but Hermione didn’t. She didn’t hate Malfoy – not at all, not anymore and there was nothing he could say to convince her otherwise – even if he did still drive her nuts at times and make her want to smack him. “I’ll quit and work in the private sector – I could probably do more good there anyway.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” his voice had dropped quieter and his eyes looked almost desperate as she felt his hand on her waist tighten.

“I’m already hurt Malfoy,” Hermione whispered, her brow creasing in pain. Her eyes scanned over his face, taking in the pain, the tension and the utter perfection that was Malfoy’s jawline as she slowly unthreaded her fingers from his suit and placed her hand gently on the side of his face, tracing her thumb over his cheekbone as she whispered. “I’m already broken Malfoy – I’m a fucking disaster, you know that, and you were the _only_ person to notice. But I am _trying_ to fix it. So please – please let me fix this. Please let me try.”

“Granger,” his voice was broken but his head was leaning into her touch like he was starved for it even though he’d touched her all day, his hands skimming across her body as he guided her around and even though he’d had her the night before, ravaged her and then held her through the night all the way till morning – it somehow still wasn’t enough.

He still looked starved.

And Hermione felt it in her core – the pull, the need, the desire to be closer and to never let him go. She knew that it was radiating from her eyes clearly and unashamed as she gripped him tight and let him see it.

“Malfoy, I meant what I said last night,” Hermione said quietly. “I want this – I want you, and I’m not going to give up on it before I even try. I know this is hard for you, I know you’re uncomfortable with accepting any help so I promise you – I won’t ask anyone for favours on your behalf and I won’t tell any of your associates what’s going on – I just want one chance.”

Hermione leaned forward, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to meet his lips. She felt his hands on her body tighten as she kissed him gently, her lips slowly and softly shifting against his.

“Do you still want me, Malfoy?” Hermione whispered against his lips.

“Yes,” he breathed, and she felt his body shudder against hers.

“Then please let me try, Malfoy,” she whispered, her lips grazing against his, his delicious scent flooding her mouth and nose as she breathed him in. “Please do this job with me. I want you Malfoy – I want this, I don’t want to lose you. I – I –“

She couldn’t figure out what she wanted to say, but it didn’t matter because Malfoy kissed her then, his lips catching hers as his hand dropped his hold on her upper arm and gently shifted to her neck, his thumb grazing over the place where her scar was hidden as he pulled her closer. She opened her mouth to him, a deep breath escaping her lungs as she slid her hand into his hair and gripped him tighter than she’d ever held him before.

“Okay,” Malfoy breathed in defeat, his lips breaking away from hers as he inhaled sharply and clutched her to his chest. She felt his arms circle around her small body, it was like a warm and sturdy cocoon as his lips grazed from her cheek to her temple and she realized that this was the third hug she’d ever seen Malfoy give – and that receiving it, was the best fucking thing in the world. “Okay – I’ll do it – I’ll do the project.”

(To be continued…)

-x-x-

Hello my friends!

I’m sorry for the massive delay in getting out an update on this fic. As mentioned in the beginning ITFOD takes priority over this one and I’ve been busy with life and work and writing original works and publishing. I dare say… it was unrealistic of me to think I could manage it all at the same time. It has been crazy and I’ve not gotten the chance to get back to this one. So I hope you enjoy this new chapter! Let me know what you think.

Love you!! <3


	15. An Ally Hidden Among Horklumps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More angry Dramione – it’s the final day of the conference… and things have definitely changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

_“Do you still want me, Malfoy?” Hermione whispered against his lips._

_“Yes,” he breathed, and she felt his body shudder against hers._

_“Then please let me try, Malfoy,” she whispered, her lips grazing against his, his delicious scent flooding her mouth and nose as she breathed him in. “Please do this job with me. I want you Malfoy – I want this, I don’t want to lose you. I – I –“_

_She couldn’t figure out what she wanted to say, but it didn’t matter because Malfoy kissed her then, his lips catching hers as his hand dropped his hold on her upper arm and gently shifted to her neck, his thumb grazing over the place where her scar was hidden as he pulled her closer. She opened her mouth to him, a deep breath escaping her lungs as she slid her hand into his hair and gripped him tighter than she’d ever held him before._

_“Okay,” Malfoy breathed in defeat, his lips breaking away from hers as he inhaled sharply and clutched her to his chest. She felt his arms circle around her small body, it was like a warm and sturdy cocoon as his lips grazed from her cheek to her temple and she realized that this was the third hug she’d ever seen Malfoy give – and that receiving it, was the best fucking thing in the world. “Okay – I’ll do it – I’ll do the project.”_

Maybe putting her neck out on Malfoy’s behalf, risking her career and making herself a target for the Wizengamot member who was blackmailing and screwing him over was stupid. Maybe sleeping with him, holding him, kissing him, _wanting_ him was crazy. Maybe standing wrapped in his arms with her nose pressed into his chest, inhaling deeply at the impossibly tantalizing smell that always seemed to encapsulate his body while she allowed herself to believe that this was a _good_ idea and that it _would_ work was not just stupid and crazy – maybe it was fully insane.

Maybe it was the single worst decision she could possibly make with her life.

Maybe allowing herself to _feel_ something towards the man who, as a boy, had tormented her, teased her, hurt her and essentially wanted her dead was fucked up and disturbing.

Maybe she needed professional help.

Maybe.

 _Or maybe not_ , the thought fluttered through her head as her fingers knotted into the back of his suit and she clutched him just as hard as he was holding her.

Because if that were the case and this truly was the worst thing that she could possibly decide to do – then why did she feel so calm right now?

Why did his touch both excite her and relax her – why did she feel safer here in his arms than she had felt in years? Why was her heart pounding with nervous anxiety riddled with excitement while her soul felt freer than air? Why did she feel like he might be the only person in the world besides Harry who completely and totally without question understood her?

And why, for the first time since the war had ended, did it feel like she was finally looking at life clearly. That she could finally _breathe_ , she could think, and the fire that had sparked to life in her chest kept growing and growing and burning hotter and hotter.

Maybe, it wasn’t crazy at all.

Maybe – it actually made sense… in a strange and complicated way that she’d never be able to explain should anyone ever ask her to.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there in the elegant sitting room entangled in each other’s arms. But at some point, Malfoy finally stepped away from her – but only just, his hands still gripping her firmly like he was nervous to truly let her go for fear of never getting her back. But he exhaled slowly, dropping his glamours and forced himself to speak.

“We should go to bed,” he said quietly, his face looked worn, his silver eyes tired in his defeat. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day – I’ll see you in the morning.”

She felt her fingers instinctively crunch closed into the back of his suit at his words. It _was_ going to be a long day tomorrow – longer than any of the other days in the conference thus far. They had to start at 8:30 am and the closing dinner and ceremony would go on likely well past midnight. But the idea of letting him go when he was standing there looking worn and vulnerable – while he was once again letting her see him and visibly displaying just how heavy this all was, just how exhausted he was from carrying the weight of it all on his shoulders while he pretended to be fine day in and day out seemed like an impossible task.

Like her, he was stretched too thin and his perfect and controlled outward appearance was a shield.

Her mind was under constant duress and at the brink of breaking and leaving permanent damage while she worked herself to death in a dead career that could leave her with nothing. While he dealt with the lingering hatred and prejudice left over from the war, was constantly at risk of going back to Azkaban indefinitely and hating himself to pieces while (debatably) nearly sabotaging himself into failure because he thought he deserved it.

If she was being honest – she thought he had it worse, because his situation was largely out of his control and the stress of not knowing who was coming after him had to be brutal whereas she was simply at the mercy of her own past actions. She had more control. But regardless, looking up at his exhausted and slightly pained expression at that moment as her heart clenched painfully in her chest – she knew – she didn’t want to let go.

She didn’t want to lose him.

And she didn’t want him to leave – not now, not when her legs still felt shaky. Not after a long day of being surrounded by rich assholes as she pretended like she knew what she was doing and had only _just_ implemented her plan to keep him out of Azkaban. Not with the desperate urgency that still seemed to ache in her chest even though he’d agreed to accept her help – albeit reluctantly.

She didn’t want to let go – so without letting herself think on it any further, she decided not to.

“Stay with me tonight,” the words came out of her lips like a whisper as she met his weary gaze. She didn’t allow herself to think about it, she didn’t allow the emotions attached to the request to take control and instead, she just let everything wash over her as Malfoy had suggested.

She could see something flicker behind his eyes as if despite his not wanting to leave he was once again debating if he should let himself have what he wanted. He’d reluctantly agreed to accept her help, sure – but she knew he didn’t think he deserved it. She knew he struggled with this, constantly fighting between his want and his guilt and the anger that still sat between them. And she knew that _this_ , whatever this was, was going to be a process for them. She could tell that he wasn’t sure if he should force himself to leave or not and so she gripped him even tighter – urging him to see just how badly she wanted him there with her. Then a deep exhale left his lungs and his shoulders seemed to crumple – he caved, and he nodded.

“ _Okay_ ,” the word was rough and heavy, his body all but deflated with defeat. But as his eyes searched her face once more and then settled on her gaze, she almost thought she saw a flicker of relief buried beneath everything else and her lips twitched into a smile. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Okay,” she breathed, finally letting her hold on him loosen.

They stepped apart and Hermione watched as Malfoy shifted toward the door between their rooms, leaving it open behind him as he made his way to his own bedroom while she made her way to hers. She fought back the nervousness that was still coursing through her body as she took the pins out of her hair then brushed her teeth, washed her face and quickly got ready for bed. Once she’d changed into her thin cotton pj shorts and her long loose shirt she opened the door of the bathroom and froze on spot as she took in the sight of Malfoy – he was laying in her bed waiting for her, the room was dim and his back was leaned against the headboard.

He looked completely relaxed and comfortable. His head had jerked up to her direction at the sound of the door, his impossibly perfect form so casual and steady on her bed – the duvet resting across his hips and his bare chest exposed while they both stared motionless at each other and a funny feeling crept down her spine.

It was just like when she’d returned to her room back at her flat after speaking to Harry in the hall – except entirely different. It was so incredibly domestic, so _normal_ and so categorically unlike them. It was like she was getting a glimpse of something that _could_ be outside of the insanity of what existed between them. Something real. Something tangible – a life that involved Malfoy calmly sitting in her bed and waiting for her to return – as if he _belonged_ there.

_Why am I thinking that?_

Anxiety spiked through her as her heart fluttered anxiously in her chest once more – to be honest at this point she was starting to worry that she might be causing permanent damage to the poor organ what with the amount she’d been stressing it out over the last few weeks. Her body instinctively urged her to run. It urged her to hide – this was too personal, too intimate, too _close_ – her brain was screaming at her that those thoughts were dangerous. Those thoughts were emotional and should therefore be rejected and boxed up. But she fought against it and held his gaze. Slowly, she released her hold on the door frame, turned off the bathroom light and shifted across the floor.

 _You asked him to stay_.

He watched her move.

 _You want him to stay_, she reminded herself sternly.

She pulled back the duvet on her side and climbed underneath as the lights began to dim deeper into darkness.

_But maybe this was a mistake?_

Her pulse started to quicken as she laid back against the sheets. They’d never _slept_ with each other without having sex first – usually, they just passed out after. They’d never ‘ _gone to bed together’_ before. This was a totally different level of ‘ _something’_ she did not want to outright name and just thinking about it made her spin. What if he wasn’t truly okay with this? What if he wanted to have sex? It wasn’t that she didn’t want too but not knowing the boundaries or the expectations was causing her stress levels to rise like an uneasy herd of aethonan. Suddenly asking him to stay seemed like a bad idea – it was awkward and intimate and terrifying.

But she’d still wanted him too.

She knew this was just her instinctive reaction. She knew this was what she wanted – but yet the panic seemed to inch down her spine no matter how much she tried to fight it.

Just as her body started to tense up and a bout of nervous ramble nearly poured from her lips, she heard him shift by her side and then felt his warm strong arm circle around her body. His hand brushed along her arm, his thumb gentle and comforting as it pressed into her skin like he’d done the night before as he pulled her into his embrace. She felt the heat of him surge through her body like a calming balm – and that in and of itself was a bit terrifying.

“Thank you, Granger,” his words breathed low, relaxed and calming against her neck.

“What for?” she whispered, the tension still lingering in her bones like a scar she could not erase.

“For asking me to stay,” he said after a quiet pause, and then his arms tightened and his body seemed to melt into her side – growing limp and relaxed like he had been each morning she’d woken up next to him. “For everything.”

Maybe it was the tone of his voice, maybe it was the way he was holding her – or maybe it was that she’d just gotten so used to his touch over the last few days but she felt the tension ease from her frame as she let out a deep exhale and curled into his chest. Her arms wrapped around him, her face buried into his warm skin and her nose nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Then her fingers curled against him, pulling him tighter and the exhaustion deep in her bones took hold.

She woke the next morning to the dull sound of her alarm. The room was still dark, only a faint gleam of light was peeking through the curtains as her eyes fluttered open and she felt the familiar warmth and weight of Malfoy’s body next to hers. She felt herself smile for a fraction of a second before the wave of emotions from the day before and her unboxed memories washed in and her body tensed. Just like the day previous she spent several long minutes patiently and diligently breathing and forcing her limbs to relax into the mattress before she finally got control of her mind.

Her eyes flicked to the mop of white-blonde hair to her right – Malfoy’s slow deep breaths were barely noticeable as she laid there in his arms allowing herself to enjoy the warmth and not think too much about why it had felt like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. Her mind was still a mess, yes, and she still had a ridiculous amount of work to do to fix herself and get her life back on track – but she felt calmer. She felt like her soul was at ease.

 _Exhausted_? Definitely.

 _Confused_? Fuck yes – she was having sex with and now apparently sleeping with Malfoy and enjoying it – _wanting_ it, of course she was confused.

But oddly optimistic and determined? Alive? Happy? And generally okay?

Yes.

For the first time in years – the answer to those questions was _yes._

“Malfoy?” Hermione whispered quietly, unsure if the limp man beside her was truly asleep, she had expected he’d be awake like he normally was but to her surprise he didn’t move or acknowledge her words. “Malfoy are you sleeping?”

Silence rang out, only the low sound of his deep breathing by her head filled the void and she could not help but smile once more. Apparently, Malfoy was so relaxed and so tired he’d actually remained sleeping. She mentally checked the time, it was nearly 7 am and they had to be downstairs for the closing day start by 8:30 am – she didn’t have time to lay there and wait for him to wake up but she also didn’t want to wake him. So, she carefully pulled herself out from under his arms and slipped from the bed.

It felt weird to leave him sleeping there, but she knew from the past few mornings that he didn’t need to be up as early as she did. Summoning her clothes, she headed to the bathroom but left the door open halfway, she couldn’t properly articulate why in her head – but somehow closing and locking the door to the bathroom felt too harsh after everything that had happened the night before. She didn’t want him to think she was ‘shutting him out'.

Then without any further hesitation, she pulled off her clothes and hopped into the large walk-in shower, closing the tinted glass door closed behind her.

She took her time washing her hair, re-charming her legs to remove any hair and scrubbing her face as she forced herself to calmly flick through the memories and emotions that were once again circling in her mind as she mentally prepared herself for a long and exhausting day of socializing with rich Horklumps once more. She made a mental list of every person she’d spoken to, matching their faces with their names and trying to remember one unique thing about them as she decided who she wanted to try and speak to again today in order to secure more work. There were a ton of prospects, but some were better than others and some included ventures she was interested to see if she could complete on her own outside of the Ministry.

By the time she got out of the shower, wrapped tightly in her towel with her hair piled on her head it was already 7:30 am. Glancing to the half-open bathroom door she saw that the bedroom looked bright.

“Malfoy?” she shifted toward the bedroom and stepped inside. The bed was made, the curtains were opened, and Malfoy was gone. An odd feeling crossed through her chest as she shifted toward the sitting room – she hoped it hadn’t looked like she’d snuck away from him or like she’d panicked and bailed as she’d done in the past. As she shifted toward the sitting-room door, she started to kick herself mentally for not waking him – but as she stepped out into the sitting room she saw the door to his suite was left open, voiding the charm work that separated the two rooms, and she could hear the faint noise of the showering running from his room.

She let out a low sigh as some of the stress left her body.

Leaving the door open between their rooms was a nice gesture – and she hoped it meant what she thought it did, that Malfoy knew she hadn’t bailed on him. Placing a quick order for breakfast she forced herself to return to the bathroom to get ready, but her body stilled as she reached the door and her heart fluttered with a warm almost painful jolt.

There on the steam covered mirror, written in the neat tidy scrawl that was undeniably Malfoy’s were the words:

_See you at 8:15 am_

_Thanks for letting me sleep_

A wide smile cut across her lips as she turned and looked back to the bedroom door. It was like a warmth had erupted through her body, sending a shudder down her spine with a rush of emotions she couldn’t quite place.

Her eyes flicked back to the large shower stall – it was charmed so he would not have been able to see in, which he undoubtably knew. So, it wasn’t like he’d done it to sneak a peek – he’d simply just taken the time to leave her a note.

Things had definitely changed between them.

Things were entirely different.

And for the first time since she arrived at the conference – she felt ready to face the day.

She felt _excited_ to stand by his side.

-x-x-

The closing day of the HAAGS conference was not at all what Hermione had been expecting. Then again… she really wasn’t sure _what_ she had been expecting. But regardless of whatever mental image may or may not have been floating around in her head, it was instantly blown away by the morning tea session and opening remarks. Someone, and Hermione assumed it was a combination of the hotel staff and a massive collection of house elves, had _completely_ redecorated the main ballroom where they’d gathered opening night and absolutely blanketed the room in plants.

Her feet had nearly faltered when she’d stepped inside the door and if not for Malfoy’s warm hand on her back that continued to steer her forward she might have actually stopped to openly gaped – but this time, instead of hearing a snide comment or a groan of annoyance – she felt his thumb brush gently along the fabric of her black suit and his low whisper echoed by her ear.

“Bennett likes to go all out.”

“No kidding,” Hermione muttered, somehow managing to keep her voice low and her face pleasantly surprised like those around them but not full out awestruck. She had to pretend like she’d been in rooms like this before – like this wasn’t the most insanely gorgeous room she’d ever seen in her life. It was a delicate balance between showing appreciation for the effort and the beauty but not looking like she’d been completely caught off guard or was uncomfortably out of her element.

Which was hard to do given just how drastically the room had changed.

The windows along the back wall were covered in beautiful vines, flowers bloomed from them in vibrant shades of red, purple and blue. Trees lined the walls, potted plants surrounding them as wisteria fell from the ceiling and shrubs and flowers she’d never seen before lined the floor to create the look of an outdoor garden. Tables lined the center where the dance floor had once been, a small podium at the front where she assumed Bennett would be making some kind of address. The man must have brought in stock from half his greenhouses to pull this off – then again, maybe not. Anne _had_ said that they owned a huge estate so maybe this was nothing for them. Maybe this was just a blip on the radar.

She had no idea.

But she did know that it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

And she knew that if Neville could see it right now he’d lose his shit and be blubbering with excitement.

She let her eyes dart around the room to take it all in as Malfoy steered them to their seats. She waited as he pulled out her chair and she sat up straight, appearing perfectly comfortable as they began taking their tea and waiting for everyone else to arrive. As she stirred a small amount of milk into her ridiculously expensive-looking china teacup her eyes met with Agatha’s across the table and the woman smiled at her – and Hermione found herself genuinely smiling back.

She liked Agatha.

Everyone was dressed in their best formal business attire. Ginny had dressed her in her most formal black suit today. It was crisp, fitted and easily the most masculine outfit that her redheaded friend had allowed her to bring – but that was, according to Ginny’s note, entirely on purpose. It was supposed to look powerful; her white shirt and thin black tie were a stark contrast to the blue feminine dress that she was originally supposed to wear later that night. Hermione didn’t usually were suits with ties and vests – but Ginny had insisted it was the right call and now looking around the table, Hermione could not help but agree. In her three piece suit she looked like she fit in, but she fit in with the more powerful people around the table – not the ladies who had come there looking for a man or simply as arm candy for another attendee. Her eyes flicked to Malfoy who was wearing a fitted three piece black suit like hers, crisp white shirt and thin black tie.

It was undeniable now.

Some guests may not have noticed their coordination before – but they noticed it now and it seemed to change the way people were looking at them – or more specifically, at her.

It was as if some of the respect that these people had for Malfoy was naturally shifting over to her. As if between her performance the day before and making her talents and skills known in combination with her _blatantly_ being _by_ Malfoy’s side as his _equal_ not his arm candy or as the ‘technical nerd’ he was dragging around to use for business purposes had managed to gain her not only respect by many of the people here but a place among them.

She did her best to ignore the nervous flutter that was erupting in the center of her chest as the realization hit her and she clapped with Malfoy when Bennett took the podium. She carefully sipped her tea just the right way as everyone else did and Bennett started off the day. He thanked everyone for attending the conference. He encouraged people to spend the open lunch buffet socializing and taking the time to make last-minute contacts. He cracked a few jokes, the tables laughed and then he grew serious once more, reciting the intent behind HAAGS before dismissing them to partake in the daily activities.

Hermione spent the morning walking _with_ Malfoy from room to room to partake in several final discussion panels. She took notes, solved problems, kept her back straight and her face impassively pleasant. During lunch she sought out Agatha, setting up a tentative agreement to come inspect the witch’s greenhouses January 9th after the holidays and to provide a preliminary report on compliance updates for the ‘Creature Preservation And Natural Habitat Protection’ legislation while Malfoy discussed more shipping details with the bird looking lady who’s shrivelfig business was an absolute mess.

They stayed within several feet of each over, circling each other as they talked to other guests between casually eating the finger sandwiches and small appetizers that the waiting staff had brought to the large ballroom. It was easy to keep an eye on one another since people seemed to seek them out, but it still made Hermione incredibly nervous that she was being left ‘ _unattended’_ to gather business on her own and set-up arrangements. But anytime she glanced nervously to Malfoy and caught his eye he’d simply nod, or give her an almost imperceptible smile – as if he trusted her, as if he had confidence in her to do this on her own but hovered nearby in case he was needed.

So she pushed on and spoke to everyone on her list as well as a few others. She was especially careful not to commit to any dates or deliveries – knowing that she would massively underestimate the time it took to complete the work in comparison to what Malfoy would agree to. Instead, she only established inspection dates, or meeting dates to further define the scope of the work the people wanted to have completed.

By the time lunch ended and they were all being corralled by Amelia into the large presentation room Hermione had booked her entire January for preliminary reviews, set-up work that could span well into March and agreed to consider and get back to people on proposals and inspection work that would keep her department busy for the next three years. And that didn’t include the four proposals offered to her outside of her Ministry job by attendees who had recognized her gift with charm and wards works and who wanted her to develop items unrelated to their greenhouse businesses or the scope of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

Her heart was racing.

Her hands trembled with adrenaline as she stepped next to Malfoy’s side once more and began to make her way to the final afternoon presentations.

She felt high.

She felt exhilarated.

She couldn’t believe how successful she’d been – how much work she’d just pulled in and how easily she would now be able to fund not only her department but potentially past projects that were struggling. The inner spark in her chest felt like a roaring raging fire as she nodded politely to several people she recognized on the way to her seat.

But more than anything, more than the odd sense of pride and determination that was radiating from her core – she felt fucking angrier than she’d ever been in her life.

And it wasn’t directed at herself or Malfoy.

How the actual fuck had Mr. Todgekins managed to fuck up her department _that_ badly and failed so fucking fundamentally?

How could he _not_ have secured work at these functions? These people were bloody desperate and had no idea how to comply with legislation – getting work from them was easier than catching a damn flobberworm.

Just what the _fuck_ did he do when he was here? How drunk was he? Did he even bother to talk about what the department could offer? About what _she_ could offer? Or was he so fucking lazy he just didn’t give a shit? Or did he legitimately not know what she did all day or what she was capable of? Because it wasn’t _that_ hard – she’d had no idea what she was doing when she got here, she was set-up to fail and completely and utterly in shambles… and she’d _still_ managed to do more in five days than that man had done in the last five years.

She felt her jaw clench as she sat by Malfoy’s side once more and the lights around them dimmed. She tried to focus her breathing, she tried to calm herself down as the first presentation started, her leg jostled against the chair leg as her hands clenched into the fabric of her pants and her mind started reeling.

Then something warm brushed her leg and her body froze, her eyes darting down to see Malfoy’s porcelain fingers ghosting against the black fabric of her pants before he gave her once shaking leg a gentle but firm squeeze just above the knee.

Her eyes darted up to his and she felt her heart nearly stop.

The look on his face was like nothing she’d ever seen before.

Concerned, deep, revered – full of a respect she’d never seen from anyone except perhaps maybe Harry or Ginny. But there was something in his eyes that made it different. Then his low voice crept between them as he leaned his head toward her and he whispered in her ear.

“I know what you’re thinking Granger,” she felt his hand squeeze her knee once more, the heat of it sending a shudder down her spine. She couldn’t believe he was touching her during the presentations in a room full of people. Sure, there was no one beside them and sure it was dark enough that no one would be able to see but still. “It’s warranted – believe me – but don’t let it get in your head and make you lose your focus.”

She felt herself nod as his breath ghosted against her ear.

“You’re better than that,” his words shivered through her and she felt her body tense once more for completely different reasons. “You’re better than him – we’re almost done, and then you can show the Ministry just how incompetent they’ve really been.”

She nodded once more, not trusting herself to speak as his hand fell away and his head turned back to the front. She tried her hardest to focus on the words coming from the presenter’s mouth. She tried to find it interesting, she tried to care about plant growth hormones and pruning sheers. She tried to someone make it seem like she was engaged and the topic was as engrossing as those in the row before them seemed to find it.

But all she could think about was the heat radiating into her side from Malfoy as they sat arms touching and legs gently brushing against one another.

When the presentations finally ended at 6:00 pm Hermione was once again focused even though she was fighting to keep her nerves in check. They had only an hour to change and prepare for dinner – then she had to dine, dance and socialize until Malfoy said it was an appropriate time to leave. Her feet already hurt from her day heels and her back was aching from sitting ramrod straight all day – but they weren’t done yet, and she was no quitter so she forced herself to smile and talk calmly with Agatha and Ludo – the grey-haired man who she’d spoken with throughout the conferences and who had ridden in the elevator with them before, as they rode it once more back to their respective floors.

She waved goodbye to the older lady as they headed in opposite directions down the hall and Malfoy’s hand pressed lightly into her back. When they got halfway down the hall she heard the elevator doors chime once more then her name being called out as quick footsteps rushed down the marble floor.

“Miss Granger!”

Hermione’s head turned to look behind her as Malfoy stopped at her side – she recognized the voice and sure enough, the concierge who had checked them in was darting up the hall carrying a large white clothing box with an envelope stuck to the top.

“My apologies Miss Granger,” the man said slightly out of breath as he came to a stop before them and held out the box. “With the preparations for dinner in the ballroom we are a bit short-handed and this could not be delivered to your room by one of our elves – I said I’d bring it myself so I could ensure that you got it. I was told that this was urgent, and I did not want to trust it to anyone else.”

Hermione fought back against the urge to ask what on earth they could possibly be doing to the ballroom now when it had already looked incredible and unearthly this morning and instead smiled at the man.

“Thank you,” she said as she accepted the box and the man gave her a polite almost bow. The gesture made her entirely uncomfortable, but she fought against commenting on that as well. “I really appreciate it. You’re a lifesaver.”

The man blushed and shook his head, her words making him fumble a bit in his normally professional stance.

“It was no trouble – really, if there is anything else that you need tonight Miss Granger please don’t hesitate to ask,” he turned to Malfoy and nodded. “Mr. Malfoy – should you need anything else please let us know. As always, the hotel’s full services and capabilities are open to you for your use.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy nodded as the man smiled and then turned away.

“I must get back down to the ballroom – please enjoy your evening!”

Hermione watched as he walked quickly toward the elevator once more then she began making her way to their rooms. She didn’t question when Malfoy pulled out his key to enter his room as she entered hers – she knew he was being careful because Agatha and the hotel man were still in the hall. But she smiled when their doors were safely shut, and Malfoy had come into her room through the still open door between their suites.

“Mind if I take a look at the dress quick?” Malfoy asked as he held out his hands for the box. “Ginny wasn’t sure what colour she’d be able to get.”

“Yeah go ahead,” Hermione handed it to him, taking the envelope addressed to her and then kicked off her heels. By the time they’d gotten an elevator and gotten back to their rooms she was down to only 45 minutes to get ready, as much as she wanted to talk to him and as much as she was curious to peek at her dress she really didn’t have time. “I’m going to go start getting ready – can you leave it on my bed after?”

He nodded as she zipped past him, already starting to strip off her suit – uncaring that he was there as she all but ran to the bathroom. Her body moved faster than it had in years, her old war reflexes kicking in as she dashed into the shower, scrubbed her body clean and then darted back out in front of the mirror to rip open the envelope and start altering her makeup. Ginny had not let her down – and she felt a prickle in her eyes as she read through the note that her friend had left her.

_Hermione,_

_Malfoy told me that you needed another ‘closing night’ dress but was stingy on the details as to exactly why because he didn’t have a lot of time and was only here for a minute – so I hope this is a good thing. He did mention something about you being invited to dinner with him by a friend of his though, so I am glad to know that you two have not only not killed each other yet but you might actually be managing to get along._

_Maybe?_

_Stranger things have happened._

_I want all the details when you come home because I’ll be honest Hermione I’ve been extremely anxious about this weekend and I’ve been thinking about you every day and forcing myself not to just come to the hotel to check up on you (Harry said I couldn’t because you needed to do this on your own, and I know he’s right but I still worry about you). So instead there has been a lot of pacing, biting my nails... you know me. I’ve never been good at waiting. Patience is not a Weasley virtue and I just so badly want this to go well for you because you deserve it._

_I know how nervous you were about going – your boss is an asshole for sending you and we need to have a serious talk about that when you get home, but love – you can do this! I know you can! You’re incredibly brilliant Hermione and incredibly talented – and you know I’m not just saying that. You don’t give yourself enough credit and Mr. Todgekins has done a right good job of making you miserable and keeping your talent a secret. _

_So, I hope this weekend you were able to realize just how wonderful you are. Just how much you have to offer – I hope that despite it being stressful and overwhelming, that maybe, you actually managed to have a bit of fun. These conferences aren’t all bad after all, though I know being there with Malfoy has probably made it harder._

_But even he isn’t all bad either._

_Now I’m rambling and wasting your time – okay I’ll stop, but when you get home let’s have tea. I want to hear all about the conference, and I wasn’t joking about the life chat. I want to talk to you, and I want to know how you’re really doing. Harry and I try to give you some space to do things on your own and to figure things out because we know that as it is we practically smother you (sorry, we just love you so much) and it’s your life and you need to do things your way. But I just want you to be happy, I want you to have the best and I’m not sure your current job is giving you that._

_You could have more Hermione._

_You deserve more._

_But we’ll talk about that later – onto business._

_I picked this dress up from a shop in Paris after talking to Fleur (don’t ask, it’s a long story) but I think it’s a real winner and I hope you like it. On the back I’ve added some makeup instructions and hair spells so you should be all set!_

_And Hermione? I love you; Harry loves you, we all love you. Put this dress on, forget about work, forget about your idiot boss and forget about the pratty rich dicks at the conference and have some fun tonight!_

_You deserve it._

_Love, Ginny_

  * **_And Harry_**



**_(Ginny didn’t leave me any room to write anything more than this but good luck tonight Hermione, I’ve no doubt that you’re going to be incredible)_ **

Hermione’s lip twitched at the tiny cramped note that Harry had written at the bottom of the letter, his slanted scrawl was unmistakable, and it was packed in tight beneath the longwinded note Ginny had left and it barely fit on the page.

Fuck she loved these two.

She could feel her chest tighten as she forced herself to flip the page over and began implementing the makeup and hair charms that Ginny had left her. She honestly didn’t know what she would do without them – she honestly wasn’t sure she’d have survived this long and not died of starvation, sleep deprivation or now, as of this weekend, humiliation at this conference without their help. She couldn’t wait to get home; she couldn’t wait to see Ginny and Harry – to tell them what she’d done. To tell them how much work she’d managed to line up and how she was going to change – she was going to be better.

She wasn’t going to let her job destroy her any longer.

But would she tell them about Malfoy?

She cleared her throat as the thought fluttered into her head and she pushed it away. There was no time for that now, she only had 15 minutes to get into her dress.

Rapidly finishing her hair in the low messy side bun that Ginny had recommended Hermione then darted out into her bedroom, summoning her lacey black panties and strapless bra – unsure of exactly what she would need for the dress. But Ginny had answered that too apparently, on a second note laying next to her dress – which Malfoy had laid out across her bed.

The dress was green.

Deep emerald green and it was made from a fabric that didn’t look real – it was light but not thin, it was soft but not flimsy. She felt her stomach knot nervously at the sight of the fabric and she noted that it was definitely more material than her Friday night dress had been – which was surprising. Friday night had been glam and red carpet but this looked like something one would wear to a formal ball with royalty. She let out a sigh and ran her fingers over the dress before getting back to business.

Grabbing the second note she scanned Ginny’s scrawl that read: _I have a feeling you might like this one better. No bra with this one either though, but wear your sexy black panties ;) - G_

“And of course, Malfoy would have seen that,” Hermione muttered as she pulled on her black lace panties and sent the bra back to her suitcase. There was no time to question anything and no time to try and find any other options.

This was it.

So, she grabbed the dress and pulled it on.

There was a knock on her slightly open bedroom door just as she’d stepped into her heels and smoothed her hands over her dress.

“Granger?”

“Yeah, come in!” she called as she tried to reach for the zipper at the back of the dress. Her head darted up to see Malfoy carefully enter.

“Are you ready? It’s almost –“ his voice cut short as his eyes locked to her and a shiver ran down her spine as both of them seemed to freeze.

Malfoy was wearing an incredibly well fitted and gorgeous black suit. Everything was black – his shirt, shoes and the watch which he’d been fastening around his wrist as he stepped through the door were all dark monotoned black including his carbon black cuff links. Except for his tie, which perfectly matched the fabric of her dress. Her eyes skimmed over him as his skimmed over her, taking each other in in tense silence as Hermione felt a heat flood through her body.

He looked impeccable.

Incredible.

It was a bit mind-blowing if she was being honest.

No one should look like that, no one’s hair should be that perfect, no one’s posture that proper. She’d seen him dressed up a thousand times, he _always_ wore suits and he _always_ looked put together but there was something about it tonight that just made her mind blank and her pulse quicken. Maybe it was the shift in their dynamic? Maybe it was because she’d slept curled in his arms last night and then read his note on her mirror this morning? Or maybe it was the way he carried himself – tall, straight, strong and less angry and less irritated than he’d ever been in the past.

Who knew?

It was probably just one of those life mysteries that could never be solved but regardless she struggled to compose herself as her mental timer went off and she cleared her throat.

“Yes – yes I’m ready, I just need to zip this up and then we can go,” she said quickly, shaking her head and forcing her eyes away from Malfoy’s ridiculously handsome form. She tried to get control of herself, to implement her impassive face and calm her mind. She reached behind herself once more to get the zipper but froze when Malfoy shifted. His eyes were still locked to hers, unwavering as he approached, and she felt her throat constricting as he closed the distance between them. “Malfoy?”

But her words came out breathy, and in two short steps he’d reached her, and his hand was brushing along the side of her face. Her eyes shot up to his as it felt like electricity jolted through her.

Her second alarm went off. They needed to leave.

“Shouldn’t we be heading downstairs?” her words were almost a whisper as she looked up at him, but he seemed to ignore her comment.

His eyes were flicking over her face now and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. This was the third time he’d touched her like this and both times before she thought he was going to kiss her and he hadn’t – but this time, he did.

His head bent slow almost tentative, like the time he’d kissed her after they’d had drunken sex after dancing and she’d not left and lay beneath him. Like he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch her – if he should _let_ himself touch her, but he did it anyway. Her legs trembled as his lips brushed hers, soft, gentle – but wanting. She kissed him back as a deep exhale left her lungs but as soon as the kiss had started, he was pulling away again, his eyes heated with that same burning want that felt so familiar she could picture it with her eyes closed. Then his hand dropped from the side of her face and he slipped around her body, his fingers ghosting against her lower back as he gently grabbed the zipper and pulled it carefully up – making sure none of the dress fabric got stuck before she felt him place a sticking charm to keep it secure.

“We _should_ be heading downstairs,” his low voice rang by her ear as he shifted around her once more, and she still could not seem to breathe. The way he’d said it made her think he’d rather stay here – like he was more so saying it to himself as if forcing his own mind to believe it – to mean it. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her heart now racing in her chest as her head swam.

Just what _was_ happening between them?

She knew she’d said she wasn’t sure – that she wanted to find out. A part of her was terrified to classify anything or to even think about it but she couldn’t stop her mind from spinning at the thoughts that were crushing her.

Were they together? Dating? Fucking? Was this exclusive or was this just a fling they were trying out? How serious was this? How serious did she want it to become? She didn’t know, but his gentle kiss and burning eyes made her once again wonder what was going through his mind. He’d said he wanted her – but in what way exactly had he meant? What was he thinking about all this?

“Alright,” Malfoy said as he stepped back from her, schooling his face into his legendary impassive look. He held out his arm to her. “Let’s go.”

When Hermione stepped off the elevator, Malfoy on her right and his hand firmly on her lower back she immediately realized exactly why Ginny had selected this dress for the closing night. _Everyone_ was dressed in formal ball gowns, some were large and poufy, others were ornate and luxurious and every single wizard there was either in a luxurious three piece suit or a set of wizarding dress robes that could give the Weasley’s a run for their money in terms of outrageous colours and patterns.

It was glamourous, but formal, it was gorgeous yet refined and it was without a doubt even more formal and even more elegant than the opening night had been. The women who had worn dresses similar to the Friday night attire, of which there were not many, stuck out like sore thumbs – and they seemed to be the ones who were there for _alternative_ purposes.

Once again – Ginny had hit the nail on the head with her selection and her dress put her in the same league as Malfoy, Agatha, Bennett, Anne, the bird-like lady, Ludo and numerous other important guests including that bitch Amber who was wearing an obnoxiously bright gown and glaring toward her from the side of the room.

Hermione was not _just_ a technical expert and she was certainly not Malfoy’s arm candy.

She was, at least in appearance – one of them.

Her green emerald dress trailed along the ground as she moved, the material was so light she was convinced it must have been charmed since she could hardly feel it. The gathered fabric pinching tight at the waist, perfectly fitted and tight as it crept up her chest into a low sweetheart neckline with loose straps that sat around her shoulders and provided no support whatsoever. If not for the sticking charm that she’d used to hold the dress up she had no idea how it was supposed to stay there securely, she’d never have been confident enough to wear the gown otherwise.

The back dipped low on this one too, but nowhere near as low as the last one – stopping about midway down and leaving her exposed skin limited to her shoulders and chest. It was more cleavage than she was comfortable with, and oddly, it felt more exposed than the silver dress that had cut down between her breasts – because at least that one fastened around her neck so it hadn’t really _shown_ cleavage, it had just given the illusion of it and shown her skin.

But there was no turning back now.

She stepped closer to Malfoy as they entered the ballroom for the third time that day and her pulse raced once more. It was the same as the garden display that morning – except that it wasn’t. Somehow there were _more_ plants, more flowers, the ground had been charmed to make everything that wasn’t green and living look like stone from a garden. A small waterfall and pond had been placed in the far corner, candles floated around the ceiling and glowbugs stuck to the few arches that were still exposed. It was dim, romantic, elegant – like the starry night dinner they’d had Sunday night but indoors and somehow more serene.

The tables used for breakfast were there, but now looked wooden and organic, the orchestra was back and playing on the decorated stage. The glass windows along the back had the glass removed and were open the night air and led to small little stone patios that looked out to the forest the same direction that their rooms had faced.

It was breathtaking.

And yet her face did not falter. She smiled politely and greeted the people they knew. She took a drink offered to her and socialized with Malfoy by her side until it was finally time to eat. The dinner was 8 courses, only twice throughout the entire meal did she hesitate before grabbing the correct fork after watching Malfoy to confirm which one to take and not once during the whole thing did he need to nudge her foot under the table.

They’d been seated near Anne and Bennett, with Agatha just across from them. The conversation was polite and professional until halfway through when the alcohol had kicked in and the room started to grow louder with laughter and chatter across the tables. Then, just after dessert had been served Bennett stood up and made for the podium once more, addressing the room and thanking them for attending the conference.

“HAAGS is more than just business,” Bennett said warmly after welcoming everyone, his face was a bit flushed from the bourbon he’d been drinking with dinner. “It’s more than expansion and it’s more than profit – don’t get me wrong, those things are great and I’m always looking to find ways to make some extra cash and that’s a large reason why all you wonderfully brilliant technical specialists are here.”

He raised his glass towards the nervous-looking man who Hermione had seen being dragged around over the course of the conference as the room chuckled. The man flushed furiously red and Bennett winked at him.

“But it is about more than that,” Bennett said seriously after the laughter had died, his eyes glancing out over the room once more. “It’s about growth as a community, it’s about solving our problems so we can help others solve theirs. It’s about building relationships, bettering our practices to not only keep ourselves safe and our employees safe but also to keep the natural environment and the creatures that we depend on, but sometimes overlook, healthy and protected. I know that for many of you the HAAGS conference is a vacation. You come, it looks lovely, and you drink and you have fun and that is all wonderful and great but by the end of the weekend – by tonight – I hope that you have all learned something. I hope that you have all met someone or gotten to know those around you better so that when you go back to work tomorrow – we can _improve_. Because _that_ is what this is _really_ about. Improvement. Understanding. Choosing to take time out of our lives so we may become better. So that we can grow, meet the needs of the industry but also that of our fellow witches and wizards responsibly – ethically, by talking and building bridges and sharing information.”

The room was quiet, most people seemed to be captivated by Bennett and Hermione couldn’t blame them. He commanded the room when he spoke, and the majority of people were nodding along in agreement with his words.

“I want to thank you all for coming here. I know it isn’t easy to get away from work for five days and so I appreciate you taking part in what has turned into a wonderful 20-year long tradition – I want to thank the hotel for graciously hosting us and helping to set up this beautiful room,” Bennett paused and the room clapped and nodded once more. She could see some of the waiting staff around the edges of the room smile. “And I want to ask that you please enjoy the rest of your evening – dance – drink – explore the garden! Have _fun_ so that tomorrow we can go back to the real world rested, prepared and ready to get to it!”

Hermione clapped with the others, smiling as Bennett came back to the table and winked at her as he took his seat. She had a feeling that most of the people here would _not_ be going back to work tomorrow rested, prepared or ready to do much of anything other than drink a copious amount of hangover potion. But she liked Bennett’s message just the same.

Dessert was finished quickly then everyone was shuffled to the far right by the bar as the tables disappeared. Before she’d even taken the drink that Malfoy had held out to her the music had started, people were already dancing, cameras were flashing to capture the final night and the room was a buzz as the mingling commenced.

She watched as people spoke and weaved through the crowd with ease that she wasn’t sure she would ever feel. Despite the fact that she was doing her absolute best to perform tonight and look the part, she still felt nervous and it sat in her chest like balled up anxiety. She forced it down, repeated Malfoy’s words in her head once more, pretending that she was better than everyone here as he led her around the room, and they talked to more people that he knew. Some of them she recognized – others she hadn’t met yet but they recognized her. The tone of the night was similar to the first, but people seemed to have finally let loose and dropped their guard, so the backhanded compliments and the one-upping one another wasn’t quite so bad. They must have gotten it out of their system or run out of things to brag about over the last five days.

She sipped from her drink, careful not to have too much as she chatted and smiled, shook hands and even accepted a few last-minute business cards. The whole time Malfoy stood close by her side, his hand resting on her back and feeling more and more like an anchor as the night went on. After chatting to a lovely older woman and her son they shifted away toward the windows but were intercepted by a large thick man that Hermione had hoped they’d not see again.

“Malfoy!” Mr. Beckish’s voice boomed and Hermione could practically smell the liquor coming off of him. His face was flushed and there was a young woman near his side that he seemed to all but forget the second he saw them. “I can’t believe you stuck around for the closing night – usually you’d be gone by now at these things!”

Hermione saw Malfoy’s face shift, it was nearly imperceptible, in fact, it was so minute she doubted she would have noticed it before everything that had happened between them. And she had no doubt that no one else here would have been able to detect the imperceptible change. But his expression was slightly tighter, more forced – _colder_ like he was disinterested in the man and was forcing himself to remain impassive. And that was when she realized… even Malfoy had to pretend at these events sometimes.

“Mr. Beckish,” Malfoy said firmly, extending his hand to shake the large man’s offered one before them. He stepped closer to Hermione as he did so, the movement was unmistakable, and Hermione instinctively shifted into his side and rolled her shoulders back confidently as she looked to Mr. Beckish. “Well I couldn’t possibly leave early after all the hard work Bennett did – I trust you had a productive time here this weekend.”

Malfoy’s eyes shifted to the girl near Beckish’s right as if expecting an introduction but the man ignored the shift in gaze and simply laughed before turning to Hermione. “Ahh and Miss _Granger_ , you look lovely! I trust he hasn’t completely turned you off these events, I can’t imagine being stuck with him would be enjoyable in any sense. Now that your work is over surely you can actually enjoy yourself tonight – perhaps socialize and get a taste of what these events truly have to offer.”

Hermione had extended her hand to him, her forced smile seemingly genuine as she did so but this time she did not step forward. She held her ground at Malfoy’s side and made the man shift to her in order to take her hand. She gripped him tight, firm – borderline inappropriately strong before quickly letting go and pulling her hand back. She watched the man’s face fall a fraction as his eyes darted back to hers.

“I’ve been having a wonderful time,” Hermione said brightly turning to smile at Malfoy. “It’s been incredibly interesting, the work done by the HA members is quite something and Malfoy here has really helped me get my feet and introduced me to several wonderful people. I think this conference has been great – Bennett captured it perfectly in his speech tonight – it’s a great chance to learn from each other and better our practices. I’ve got a lot to take back to the Ministry and more work than can manage.”

She could literally see the man’s eyes almost glaze as his face fell further. As if he had seriously thought he’d be able to pull the same shit he’d pulled Friday night. As if he seriously thought she’d want to spend any time with him, to _socialize_ , or that she would be here for anything other than business – and at her bright and perfectly polite words of praise and strictly business he seemed not only disappointed but almost bored. Mr. Beckish, evidently, was not here for work. But she’d known that the second she’d met him Friday night. So Hermione decided to double down – to make him as disinterested and as bored as fucking possible so he’d get the hint she was not a piece of meat available for sampling.

“I’m excited to see how things pan out in the next few months, there have been excellent talks regarding shipping changes and crop management. And the new pruning techniques are sure to reduce picking times which will make for a fascinating impact on the apothecaries. Hopefully next year this time we will have a lot of progress to report and modification to discuss,” Hermione beamed brightly as she looked back at the man before gently reaching for Malfoy’s arm. “But I apologize Mr. Beckish, here I am taking up all your time when I’m sure you have other people you wanted to speak with tonight regarding your issues with bundimun infestations. Besides, Malfoy has promised me a dance. I hope you have a lovely night – if you’ll excuse us.”

She took Malfoy’s arm and turned them towards the dance floor, not waiting for the man’s response.

“Mr. Beckish,” Malfoy nodded to the man as they passed by and he began to guide her to the dance floor. When they shifted far enough away that the man could no longer hear them Malfoy stepped closer. “A dance? Really Granger, I knew you didn’t like him, but I never figured you’d rather dance than talk to him – you hate dancing.”

“You don’t like him either,” Hermione muttered back, glancing up to him before smiling and nodding to someone else they recognized. She could feel her heart starting to flutter nervously in her chest at the thought of dancing once more. “I can tell, and I don’t _hate_ dancing – I just don’t like it because I’m terrible at it. But I couldn’t think of anything else fast enough to get us out of there.”

“You’re not _terrible_ at it,” Malfoy said quietly and when she looked up to him, he was looking down toward her. “You’re just not _good_ at it.”

Her brow furrowed and she glared at him, that still lingering hint of anger flaring in her chest at his tone.

“I didn’t say you were the _worst_ ,” his eyes narrowed at her in irritation but then his expression seemed to soften as if he’d caught hold of his own anger and snuffed it out. She could see him inhale tightly and let out a breath as he forced himself not to slip back into their habit of getting angry at one another and exploding over nothing. They’d made it the whole day thus far without yelling once and she didn’t want to break that record and be the one to pitch a fit. So, she took a deep breath as well and let her anger go as he ducked his head closer to her and dropped his voice lower. “I know I’ve given you a lot of shit these past four months, Granger and I know I’ve not been kind about it. I can’t do anything to take it back but – I won’t lie to you about your skills – not anymore. Your dancing is _fine_ , you’d just be a lot better if you could learn to relax.”

“You and I both know I can’t do that,” Hermione muttered, dropping her eyes back to the path before them as the distance to the dance floor closed. Her heart was racing quicker – they hadn’t practiced every night like they’d said they would. And the last time they danced they’d fucked nearly immediately afterward. She could feel her nerves curling with a bizarre sort of heated anxious want in the pit of her stomach. It mixed horribly.

“You’ll be fine,” she heard his quiet voice by her side and then they’d reached the dance floor and Malfoy was taking her glass and placing it on a nearby tray.

His hands shifted to her hips, he was pulling her into his arms and her brain was starting to race uncontrollably. What an incredibly stupid way to leave Mr. Beckish, she could have just said they had someone else to talk to or she could have come up with some other excuse to walk away but now she had to dance with Malfoy in front of all these people again. She’d known she’d have to – but she didn’t feel ready.

“ _Granger._ ”

Her head snapped up at the soft but firm word, her eyes latching to his silver-grey ones as he pulled her a fraction closer than last time and she gripped his shoulder and hand tight.

“Breathe,” he said it so quietly she could barely hear it and she shuddered as she felt his thumb brush softly along her back. “Just look at me – pretend like no one else is here and you’ll be fine. I promise.”

“ _Okay_ ,” she whispered as she nodded, feeling the words nearly catch in her throat as she stared up at him and her heart seemed to beat like a rabbit’s for entirely new reasons.

He stepped, she followed.

He shifted, she moved.

He guided her, his arms holding her weight like last time as they stepped through the motions with ease. She never looked away from him, her eyes were latched to his as they glided around the dance floor. She hadn’t even realized that she couldn’t hear the music, she couldn’t hear anything around them. She’d completely tuned it out as she focused every ounce of her attention on the man before her as she gripped him tightly and let her body move under his hold. She hadn’t realized how close they’d gotten, how his hold seemed to change, how the space between them had all but disappeared until the eruption of applause sounded in her ears and Malfoy stopped, dropping his hold on her to clap for the orchestra and she stood in a daze at his side. Her hands moved robotically, clapping too as her eyes shifted around the floor once more – taking it all in with a slightly panicked heart as if she’d forgotten it was ever there. She nearly jumped when a voice sounded to her left.

“You dance so beautifully!”

Hermione’s head twisted to see Anne shifting towards her as she clapped, Bennett near her side. The woman’s eyes were shifting between Malfoy and her and it made Hermione’s skin prickle. Maybe they’d danced _too_ close, maybe she’d just made a mistake. But Malfoy didn’t falter at her side and he turned to the woman with a pleasant smile, his hand once again finding Hermione’s back.

“They really have been keeping you locked up haven’t they,” Bennett said warmly, his eyes almost amused as they flicked over Hermione. But the look didn’t make her shudder, it wasn’t perverted or rude like Beckish or some of the other men. “Todgekins had seemed convinced that this event simply _wasn’t for you_ but I daresay he couldn’t have been more wrong. Miss Granger – would you do me the honour of granting me a dance. I’m nowhere near as graceful as Malfoy but I can still manage the floor just fine.”

Hermione grinned nervously as Anne chuckled – expecting Malfoy to step in and save her like the last few times.

But he didn’t.

“Just don’t break her foot,” Malfoy said as he shifted toward Anne and gave Bennett an amused but serious glance. Hermione could feel the terror seeping down her spine as she glanced to Malfoy in panic but he gave her a look that seemed to imply this was necessary – and that she’d be fine.

“That was _one_ time!” Bennett said almost flabbergasted as his wife started to laugh and beckoned Malfoy toward her. “And it wasn’t even my fault.”

“That’s not how Narcissa tells it,” Anne teased as she took Malfoy’s hand to dance with him, then she winked at Hermione. “He’s a clumsy oaf – but he means well. If he steps on your toes just kick him and he’ll learn.”

“My dear it has been years since I’ve stepped on anyone’s toes,” Bennett shook his head but ignored his wife’s laugh as she twirled away with Malfoy. His eyes flicked back to Hermione and he held out his hand, bowing slightly. “ _Madam_.”

“ _Sir_ ,” Hermione said with a smile though her voice nearly shook with nervousness. She fought against the urge to watch Malfoy as she battled the tension that was seizing her body when she stepped into Bennett’s arms and felt his hand circle her frame. She knew she needed to look at him or she’d fuck it all up. She knew she needed to focus but it was so incredibly hard to do so. She’d avoided dancing with anyone else at the conference thus far because she was simply not good enough. In some ways, she found it absurd that Malfoy would allow this – that he would have enough confidence in her to not cock it up that he’d _leave_ her here with Bennett. On the other hand, it _was_ flattering that he had faith in her.

Or maybe he just had faith in Bennett.

But regardless she _had_ to accept now, Malfoy had left her, and Bennett _was_ the head of the HA. The logical part of her brain knew that was why Malfoy hadn’t intervened – he couldn’t. Besides, Bennett had just played right into her hands and given her exactly what she needed to save Malfoy, dancing with him was the least she could do to be polite.

“Don’t worry,” Bennett said quietly as they slowly began to shift around the floor to the slow but pleasant tune. “I’m _old_ – no one here will expect anything fancy, so you’ll be fine.”

Hermione smiled, a small chuckle leaving her lips.

“You’re not old,” she said back quietly, carefully moving her feet and ensuring that she did not step on him while she kept her back straight and her chin up as Malfoy had taught her. Bennett held her firmly, but nowhere near as close as Malfoy had. It was proper, professional – his hand firmly on her midback and not an inch lower. He seemed to know that she was nervous, his eyes were looking at her in the same knowing way they’d viewed her during their dinner. As if he knew more than he was letting on but was just allowing things to play out. So, she decided to be a bit honest with him, it couldn’t hurt after all. “But I’m rather glad no one is expecting much – I – well I’ve never been the best dancer.”

“That I don’t believe at all,” Bennett smiled at her, it was genuine and warm, as if he knew she’d just opened up to him a little. “You danced just fine with Malfoy. So, tell me Miss Granger – did you enjoy the conference so far?”

“Yes, very much so,” Hermione nodded, her eyes burning with enthusiasm. “I’ve never been to anything like this – it was a wonderful experience. I’ve learned a lot and I hope that I have managed to contribute in some way.”

Bennett watched her for a minute, his eyes still circling her face as he shifted her around the dance floor. He seemed to be pondering something – as if debating his next words carefully before he spoke.

“You’ve done more than contribute Hermione,” he said quietly, his voice dropping low before she felt the familiar tingle of a silencing bubble. It was the first time he’d called her by her first name, Anne had started using it during their dinner upon Hermione’s request, but Bennett had refused. She felt her muscles tense slightly as they were encased in the spell he’d cast. “You’ve singlehandedly solved more problems here than any other person has in the history of this event. Your capabilities are beyond anything I could have expected, and you’ve generated more work for your department than Todgekins has in decades. You’re gifted, talented – brilliant and not only do you live up your reputation from the war – you surpass it.”

He met her with a level stare, and she felt her arms grow more tense as he twisted them around again.

“So, my question to you, Hermione Granger – is what the hell are you doing working in the basement of that blasted department?”

Bennett’s voice hadn’t been cruel or mocking – if anything it was the opposite. It was a firm and genuine question. Like he truly could not wrap his head around her job and why she worked in the role that she did. But the seriousness of his question and the tone of his voice struck her – she felt her eyes go wide and her heart started to race even faster.

“I want to make a difference,” she said quickly, almost reflexively. It was the same response she gave to Ginny any time the topic of her career had come up in the past and the look the man gave her in response was so reminiscent of the one that her redheaded friend made a part of her seriously wondered if they’d met or were somehow related.

“I believe that’s how you got there,” Bennett said slowly, his eyes circling her face before he met her gaze once more. “But you and I both know you could do more in the private sector – your talents are wasted in that department.”

“Well the private sector doesn’t implement creature protection legislation,” Hermione said, forcing her tone to remain level even though she could feel herself becoming slightly defensive. She’d not anticipated this, she’d not prepared any responses and she didn’t want to touch this topic with a ten foot pole because the truth was these were all questions that she’d started asking herself since arriving and she didn’t have the answers figured out just yet.

“They don’t pass it – no, you’re right,” Bennett nodded. “But the private sector often funds it – they lobby for it and thus, in the end, they are largely responsible for implementing it even if you’re the one who does the work and files the papers.”

Hermione felt her calm exterior falter and she swallowed hard – but Bennett didn’t give her the chance to say anything else.

“I spoke to Todgekins yesterday after dinner, and then made a collection of other floo calls. You and Malfoy are starting my proposal first thing tomorrow morning. You’re to go to the office where that incompetent ass will tell you what I just told you – he’s probably also going to lecture you on going over his head and securing work without his approval but that’s just him panicking because he knows that you’ve finally realized you don’t need him and he’s going to have to answer a lot of questions when Shacklebolt comes around wanting to know why your work projections have just skyrocketed. But ignore anything he says to you – it’s not your problem to deal with that – then, gather your supplies and head out to my Northern greenhouses. I’ve had the alarms updated to provide you, Malfoy and your team access for the next few months so you can come and go as you please. You’re funded until January 2nd, Hermione – I’ve already transferred the money and made it clear that only you, Malfoy and your team are approved to charge to the purchase order,” Bennett said calmly, his eyes still serious. “I’m not going to ask you to explain why you’ve dedicated years of your life to that asshole while he kept you working away in a closet and nearly tanked your career. I know better than most that sometimes life is strange and sometimes things aren’t what they seem. Sometimes people have to find their own path. I spent a good number of my years as a young man wasting money on lost causes and time on wishful thinking so it’s not like I don’t understand.

“But Hermione, I’m going to give you something that I wish someone would have given me when I was your age,” Bennett said slowly, his eyes locked to her wide ones. “The _truth_. Stop waiting for the people around you to change. Stop hoping that the Ministry will get better, or that people have the same work ethic as you or that they even give a damn – because most of them don’t. Stop thinking that you’re making a difference and instead go _make_ one. If you work with incompetent nitwits then you’ll spend your life bumbling around them until you either become one – or you drown in their mess. The only way to be efficient – to _actually_ implement change or to get what you want is to _take_ it. And the only way to do that effectively is to create your own work – become your own boss. You don’t need Todgekins and you certainly don’t need any other idiot telling you what to do. You could do more on your own in a year than you could ever do working a decade in that shit hole.

“So when this proposal is over and you’ve had some time to sort through all the business propositions afforded to you this weekend – I want you to come to our estate over Christmas break and discuss some other opportunities – I think it’s time you struck out on your own and made your mark on the world – it would be better for it I can tell you that,” Bennett’s words had left her speechless. She wasn’t sure how’d she managed to remain dancing with him without stepping on his toes or falling over entirely. But before she could force her mouth to move or form some coherent sentence his eyes softened a fraction and his voice became warmer once more. “Malfoy is a good man – he tends to keep to himself; he doesn’t let anyone in – _ever_ – and he never tells anyone his business. I don’t know what’s going on – I don’t know why you’re so determined to work with him over the next few weeks and take up all his time and I’m not going to ask you to explain that either. If Malfoy has decided to trust you and decided to let you in then not only do you have my professional respect from your contributions this weekend, you have my personal respect as well.”

Bennett paused and Hermione felt their movements stop as the people around them started to clap once more. But Bennett didn’t clap. And neither did she. She was too focused on him, too captured by the expression on his face and the quiet words that left his mouth.

“But if there is anything that I can do to help you – if there is anything that you need, anything at all, you let me know,” Bennett said quietly, his hand gripping hers once firmly as he took a step back. “Lucius Malfoy was the worst thing that ever happened to that boy, nearly poisoned him beyond repair. He’s made a lot of mistakes in his life and he knows it – but idiotic as he may have been as a kid, despite all odds, he’s managed to turn himself around. He’s grown up and he deserves a chance to define himself on his own just like anyone else.”

“I agree,” the words left her before she’d even managed to filter her thoughts. She knew from the way they’d sounded leaving her lips that they hinted at something deeper than just a professional relationship or an impartial opinion or polite agreement – but Bennett’s face didn’t give anything away and he continued to meet her gaze. “Thank you, Bennett – for everything. For inviting me, for your words, and for giving me the opportunity to complete your next proposal. It means more than you could possibly know, and I promise – that should I need anything, I’ll contact you.”

He nodded and then his serious face turned back into his bright smiling one as she felt the silencing bubble fade away.

“See – no broken feet!” Bennett grinned as he turned towards his wife and Malfoy who had shifted through the crowd of people toward them. “Just more conclusive evidence that perhaps the incident had more to do with the shoes and the woman than this old man.”

Anne laughed and swatted at her husband and Malfoy fell into place by Hermione’s side. She smiled with them, talking briefly before being gathered into Malfoy’s arms for another dance.

She tried not to let Bennett’s words eat away at her mind as she moved with him. She’d tried to focus just on his eyes, his gaze, his impossibly perfect face. She tried not to think about how strange it was that at that moment, dancing underneath a thousand floating candles and beautiful hanging wisteria – the one thing she wanted to do more than anything else in the world, was kiss Malfoy and forget that anyone else was here.

(To be continued…)

-x-x-

Hello my friends!

I’m sorry for the massive delay in getting out an update on this fic. As mentioned at the very beginning ITFOD takes priority over this one and I’ve been busy with life and seem to have no time… I’m not sure where it’s going, but – if you find any or have any to spare, feel free to send it my way.

I hope you enjoy this new chapter, let me know what you think!

<3 <3


	16. The Otter and The Dragon Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final few hours of the conference…not much plot progression in this one – but trust me, it’s coming. Chapter 17 the plot train takes off and we’re on a ride into story town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates on Saturday/Sunday likely bi-weekly? Who knows, The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one and life is crazy.

This chapter is dedicated to Miss Weasley… (girlwithacinderblockgarden) you are a wonderful friend and a beautiful person. Thank you for joining our group, for always being so kind and loving – and for believing me when I say that this fic _will_ be finished and that I have not abandoned it (your trust means the world to me). I appreciate your friendly pushes to get this chapter done and I consider it a true privilege to have met and gotten to know you <3

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_Anne laughed and swatted at her husband, and Malfoy fell into place by Hermione’s side. She smiled with them, talking briefly before being gathered into Malfoy’s arms for another dance._

_She tried not to let Bennett’s words eat away at her mind as she moved with him. She’d tried to focus just on his eyes, his gaze, his impossibly perfect face. She tried not to think about how strange it was that at that moment, dancing underneath a thousand floating candles and beautiful hanging wisteria – the one thing she wanted to do more than anything else in the world, was kiss Malfoy and forget that anyone else was here._

She danced with Malfoy five more times.

Twice to avoid dancing with other men who were definitely interested in her for _alternative_ reasons and who gave her the absolute creeps. Malfoy had politely and rather quickly shot those propositions down by grabbing hold of her and leading her toward the floor – and the second time it had happened, he’d backhand complimented the man so smartly that the wizard seemed perplexed and entirely lost. Like he knew he’d just been insulted but couldn’t fully understand how because the words had gone right over his head. The tall lanky wizard had been left standing there watching Malfoy shift her toward the dance floor as his brow furrowed in confusion.

In that particular case, Hermione got the distinct impression that Malfoy not only knew the man, but that he greatly disliked him. Even more than he disliked Beckish.

After that she danced with Malfoy once to escape a pesky older lady who kept harassing her for information on Harry and then once more to avoid Amber. The cunning witch had been glaring at Hermione for the entirety of the evening anytime they crossed paths. She’d tried to approach them several times, but each time Malfoy had, somehow, managed to steer them away before she could get close enough to speak to them. But after being cornered into a conversation by Agatha – which Hermione did not mind because she found that she genuinely liked the older woman – Amber had seen her opportunity to strike and had taken it.

Malfoy had been lingering nearby, casually sipping his scotch as Hermione had been chatting politely to Agatha. Amber had approached from the left, grabbing Malfoy’s arm with a sexy pout plastered across her face as she asked him to dance and tried to steer him to the floor. Clearly, she was hoping that she would be able to get him alone now that Hermione was occupied. Whether or not the witch suspected something was going between them Hermione wasn’t sure – but she knew from the way that they stayed by each other’s sides and navigated the room together it was clear to every guest that she and Malfoy were there as a ‘ _pair’_. Not to mention their coordinated outfits _._ Which, when looking around the room, was not odd or suspicious at all.

In fact, most of the other guests had attended the conference in the same way – either with their spouses, business partners, colleagues or friends. From that perspective, she and Malfoy fit right in and Amber would have no reason to be so bitchy about it – except for the obvious fact that she had her sights on Malfoy and wanted him for more than just his shipping and apothecary knowledge.

But when Amber touched his arm an odd sensation had crept over Hermione – it raised a lot of questions she knew she needed to address later like: _Why did it bother her? Was it because Amber was just a bitch or was it her blatant interest in Malfoy that she didn’t like? Was she allowed to feel this way?_ And, _why hadn’t Malfoy danced with anyone else yet?_

Aside from Anne, for the whole of the evening, Malfoy had carefully and successfully avoided any and all advances made toward him by every single female that approached. And he did it yet again with Amber although not quite as subtly.

He’d smiled at her politely, allowing her hand to grab his arm in what might have looked like acceptance before he then, rather abruptly, pried it from his body and took a step back toward where Hermione was standing with Agatha. From the corner of her eye, as Hermione tried her hardest to keep her heart steady and to focus on the words that Agatha was saying, she watched as Malfoy rejected the girl.

“Apologies, Miss Campbell,” Malfoy said more loudly than necesary as he pulled the girl’s hand from his arm. “I’m afraid I’m committed elsewhere – I owe Miss Granger a dance, but perhaps _this_ fine gentleman would be kind enough to accept your offer.”

He gestured toward their left, shifting Amber’s hand to a large thick man and Hermione had to fight against grinning as Amber’s eyes grew wide with annoyance and disgust as Malfoy placed her hand on Beckish’s arm and then left her there. In two quick steps, Malfoy was at her side, giving Agatha a gorgeous smile before apologizing to the woman for stealing Hermione away – then they were back on the dance floor shifting to the music once more.

She danced with him two more times after that and both times were because she’d commented that she loved the song that the orchestra was playing. Malfoy’s eyes had watched her for a silent minute the first time she’d made the comment. Then he’d offered her his hand and she’d tentatively accepted it. The second time it happened she didn’t falter, and they’d moved back out to the dance floor with ease.

In between the dancing they chatted and mingled, they smiled, and they laughed politely at stupid jokes that were not very funny at all. Hermione could feel the ache in her spine like a knife as her feet began to feel like they were breaking in her heels – but she kept her shoulders back and her face composed. Despite her best efforts to remain sober and to watch the alcohol that she consumed, as the room grew dimmer and the voices grew louder, she realized that she’d lost count of how many glasses of bourbon she’d drank. She could feel the heat of the liquor rushing through her body like a fire as she carefully navigated the floor and kept her chin held high.

When midnight finally hit nearly everyone around them seemed drunk. She watched as wizards pulled witches from the room, laughing and glancing over their shoulders as if trying not to get caught while being the most obvious people in sight. She saw ladies in slinky dresses pulling men towards the waterfall or out onto the balconies. The laughing rang in her head like an unending chime as she fought against the building exhaustion in her body and her desperate urge to just give up.

Because she wouldn’t.

Not yet.

Not after everything, and not when she’d come this far.

It didn’t matter how much her feet hurt – or that she could no longer even feel them. It didn’t matter that 90% of the people in this room were idiots and she sort of wanted to punch them in the face one by one. And if she heard one more joke about a _cockatrice_ , she might actually lose her mind. But she swallowed it down, and she forced herself to remain focused, calm, polite and pleasant. She focused on the people that she didn’t mind so much and as the night continued to grow late, she found herself melting closer and closer into Malfoy’s side.

She wasn’t sure when the shift had happened – was it after midnight or before? Was it after Amber tried to dance with him or after Bennett had danced with her? Or was it after her 8th drink – or maybe that was her 12th?

She couldn’t recall.

But at some point during the night, as the candles had grown dimmer, the buzz had grown louder, warmer and the people around them had gone from drunk to absolutely plastered – Malfoy’s hand had shifted on her body. He still led her around with it firmly on her lower back, but when they stopped to chat it naturally shifted around her waist to rest on her hip opposite him as she instinctively leaned into his side. She hadn’t even realized that she was doing it or that he was holding her the way that he was – and she doubted that he had either or he wouldn’t have done it.

 _Would he have_?

Wouldn’t he care if people suspected there was something more between them? Wouldn’t he be worried about people knowing? About the gossip or the rumours?

Then again, everyone around them was so sloppy and so wasted maybe he knew that they wouldn’t notice. Maybe he knew that in comparison they looked positively sober. Because some witches and wizards were nearly clinging to each other to stay upright and the technical specialist Bennett had winked at during dinner was now nervously holding up his boss while he spoke to another guest and he looked positively terrified. Or maybe she was overthinking this again and Malfoy didn’t care… maybe he was just enjoying his night, enjoying the closeness and not thinking about it at all.

She could feel the heat of him against her side as she laughed genuinely at something that Ludo, the grey-haired man, had said and she had to fight not to spit out her drink. And it was at that moment she realized she was actually having a bit of fun. The thought hit her like a freight train, the dull haze of the liquor seeming to clear for a fraction of a second as her head turned up toward Malfoy and she looked at him.

He was smiling.

 _Genuinely_ smiling at the joke that Ludo had just told. Then his eyes dropped down to hers and his gaze seemed to soften as he grinned at her. His face was ever so slightly flushed, his hair ever so slightly dishevelled. His glass of scotch was held lightly in his hand, his left arm circling her body, holding her close, and for a brief moment – it looked like he didn’t have a care in the world.

He was free.

She felt her heart clench in her chest as she stared up at him, the room seeming to fade away for a heartbeat as her left hand naturally came up to rest on his chest. Her fingers brushed against the fabric of his perfect suit as a grin split across her lips and his eyes were filled with something warm – something deep.

This felt right.

In this moment – everything felt right, and she wanted to keep it forever. She would keep him safe no matter what because she wanted to stay by his side just like this.

But the moment was pulled away from them as Bennett’s voice split the air and a flash of light went off nearby. Her head turned to see Bennett and Anne approaching with a photographer behind them and he was motioning for them to all gather for a photograph. Before she could even process what was happening, she and Malfoy were swept up into the group – getting wedged in between Agatha and Anne as the tall man with the camera told them all to smile. Hermione smiled, laughing at the joke Bennett told as the flash went off twice more before the group dissolved and the chatter continued.

Petty soon it all began to blend together like a blur, all the faces, the décor and the drinks smearing into one overwhelming feeling of joy that made her face hurt from smiling so much. They chatted to six more people, danced one final dance and finished one more drink before Malfoy finally took her empty glass, placed it on a nearby tray and began to lead her from the room. Her exhausted legs carried her, her body aching with a dull pain and urging her to rip off her shoes – but she fought against it and remained tall and steady by his side as they entered into the small elevator just outside the large ballroom. The doors closed shut behind them, blocking out the sound of the party and they were quickly encased by a tight heavy silence. She could hear her heartbeat rushing in her ears, her legs swaying a little from the alcohol as she glanced up to Malfoy and felt a deep heat surge through her body.

He was looking at her like _that_ again.

In the way was made her chest tighten and the coil in her center curl impossibly tight. Maybe it was the liquor, or maybe it was her spinning emotions, but the elevator ride seemed to whirl by as she stared up at him and before she could even speak the doors were chiming and opening on their floor. She followed him into the hall, his hand burning against her hip as they sauntered toward their rooms and her mind started to race once more.

 _What happens now_?

They hadn’t fought all day. They’d not argued once. There was no explosion awaiting them and nothing to suggest that they’d follow each other into one another’s room. At least not as per how it usually happened. Yet it was the final night of the conference and she couldn’t stand the thought of saying goodnight at the door. She could feel her body growing tight with nervous anticipation as their rooms grew even closer.

Was it wrong to ask him to come to her room? She’d done it last night… or at least she had asked him to stay with her after he’d followed her inside in a fit of rage.

What happened once this conference was over? Did they continue on as they had been over the last few days, randomly fucking and spending the night? Or did they go back to some weird working dynamic and keep their hands to themselves? She was seriously starting to kick herself for shoving these thoughts aside earlier and not bothering to figure out what they were. But at the time she’d needed to just to get through the day and thinking about this had been too much.

But now she didn’t know and her time at this conference with him away from everything else was running out.

She had no idea what to do. Her blood felt like it was boiling with want, and it was doubled by her intoxication, but she didn’t know if she could just ask him to come over. Could she ask him for sex? It seemed so juvenile and stupid but everything about their relationship had been fucked up thus far and she really had no idea where they stood right now. And if she was being truthful – it wasn’t just sex anymore. That wasn’t all that she wanted. She pulled her key out, enlarging it and stepping before him to unlock her door and open it as they reached the end of the hall.

She could see him reaching for his own key and she felt her heart thump agonizingly in her chest. Should she just ask? Or would he come to her through their shared door?

She forced herself to swallow hard and pushed the words from her lips as she quickly unlocked her door.

“Did – did you want to stay tonight?” she whispered, glancing over her shoulder at him. He was frozen before his own door, his hand holding his key, but his eyes were fixed on her.

She couldn’t breathe as she waited, her heart pounding as his heated eyes flicked over her and the silence continued to ring out. She could practically see the flicker of debate behind his eyes before he slowly repocketed his key and then stepped toward her. She moved inside and he followed her, shutting the door behind them with a gentle nudge.

 _Okay,_ she thought as her heart started to race once more. _He’s inside, you asked him to stay – now what? Do you just kiss him or what? You didn’t ask him for sex, you just asked him to stay. Fuck, you still have no idea what you’re doing! Why is this so difficult for you to manage!_

She let out a quiet sigh, kicking off her heels and forcing her rampant inner monologue to shut up as she began to move toward her bedroom. She could hear him moving slowly behind her as if he himself wasn’t exactly sure where this was going or what was about to happen. Last night they’d simply slept, they’d both been exhausted and emotionally spent. But tonight, somehow felt different. The air between them was charged, and she could practically taste the tension.

Without pausing she walked through the dim bedroom and straight into the bathroom, flicking the light on to a dim glow as she stepped before the mirror so she could pull the pins from her hair. She left the door open behind her so he would know she was coming back – but she needed a minute to collect herself as she fought to calm her nerves.

Everything tonight had been so overwhelming. So new, so different – so close and so fucking intimate and terrifying.

 _Everything_ this _entire_ weekend had been _too_ much. Between Bennett, Malfoy, Todgekins – the reveal of Malfoy’s parole details and everything else it was fucking overwhelming. She felt like she was vibrating as she fought to control her rampant emotions and process just what the hell it was that they’d done and just what the fuck she wanted from him tonight.

Sleep? Sex?

Both?

All of it?

Anything he was willing to give her?

Her eyes flicked to the mirror, glancing to the right of her reflection to look at the bedroom behind her – and her heart stilled in her chest. Her fingers twitching to a stop on the large clip she was about to remove from her hair and her breath caught in her throat.

Malfoy was standing in her bedroom removing his tie, his motions smooth and seamless. She couldn’t breathe as she watched him. His perfect porcelain hands moved with precision and elegance as he undid the buttons of his dress shirt and slowly tugged the fabric from his shoulders. His muscles flexed across his chest, his broad shoulders moving deliciously and making her mouth go dry as he removed his shirt fully and set it on the bed next to his suit jacket. Her eyes traced over his impeccable form, mesmerized by the way he moved, the way the light reflected off his pale skin and the patterns created across it by the scars that littered his body.

He was the single most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life.

And she couldn’t look away.

She watched as his hands moved to his belt before they froze, and his body stiffened slightly. She swallowed hard, her gaze slowly shifting up his lean torso, until she was looking into his silver eyes – he was staring at her. His eyes seemed to shine in the darkness, but they were heated and dark. She felt a shiver run down her spine as his head tilted to the side and his eyes racked over her form. She’d just been caught blatantly staring at him and watching him undress – yet she still couldn’t look away from him as a blush crept up her neck and heat washed down her spine. His gaze circled back to hers and it was magnetic. She inhaled sharply as electricity burned through her nerves and tingled across her body.

_Fuck I want him._

He moved.

His hands falling from his belt, his eyes never leaving hers as he shifted towards her. He was closing the distance; he was only a few feet away and yet she still could not move. Her hand was frozen by her head while the other braced against the marble counter. Her muscles tensed with anticipation as she watched his tall perfect form practically glide across the hardwoods toward her. He was so close now she could feel the heat of him as he stepped up behind her, his gaze still holding hers through the mirror as her heart threatened to stop beating.

His hand touched her hip.

She swallowed hard.

His body brushed against hers as his opposite hand came to the zipper on the back of her dress.

She couldn’t breathe.

His eyes were burning, his gaze seeming to see right into her very soul – it threatened to make her feel things. To feel things that she’d thought were broken and missing from her life – she’d thought _that_ emotion had died long ago. Or maybe it had never existed?

His hand moved, undoing the zipper along her spine as her body trembled and her own hand finally fell from her head. The clip clattered onto the counter as her curls spilled out around her shoulders. His hand was wrapping around her body, she could feel it moving but she still had yet to look away from his reflection in the mirror. His fingers grazed along her collar bone, the touch light and soft as his fingers trailed up her neck toward her jaw and then she felt her head turning over her shoulder to look up at him.

She shuddered.

He was pressed up against her now, his face only inches from her own as he held her against his chest. She could feel his opposite hand coming to rest on her hip once more – the warmth of his exposed chest radiating into her back through her bare skin as a breathy gasp left her lips. All the tension from the night was teetering on a ledge in her chest. How many times had she wanted to touch him tonight? How many times had she wanted to kiss him, to hold him – to fuck him?

She could feel herself trembling in his hold as she struggled to breathe and the desire she’d suppressed after he’d kissed her in her room before going down to dinner began to break free.

“ _Kiss me_ ,” she whispered, the words hoarse and nearly broken as the heat across her body flared under his touch. “ _Malfoy – kiss me_.”

His hands tightened across her body, his eyes darkening with want before his head dipped to close the distance between them. She nearly moaned as his lips caught hers and all the tension and emotion that she’d buried throughout the closing ceremony exploded between them in a desperate desire to get closer.

She craned her neck to kiss him deeper, her exhausted legs shaking beneath her as his hand trailed down from her jaw to close snuggly around her neck. She groaned into his mouth, pressing her back into his bare chest and reaching up to clutch his forearm tight for support as his other hand wrapped around her waist. The fire in her center sparked to life as his tongue ran over her lips and then the final threads of their restraint broke.

He groaned, his nails biting into her skin as she melted in his arms. She fought to breathe, struggling to inhale between their heated kiss – not wanting to stop, not wanting to break away for a second even though her lungs were burning as they all but devoured each other.

The sensation of his body pressing against hers and holding her tight as he kissed her so deeply her legs turned to jello was everything – but she needed more. It wasn’t enough. She wasn’t sure it would ever be enough. Her hands fumbled, sliding behind her to his belt, letting Malfoy hold her up by her neck and her waist as she somehow managed to undo his belt behind her. His grip on her tightened and she heard him groan as he bit her lip.

“ _Granger,_ ” he groaned against her mouth. It rippled through her body like a wave of pleasure and she gasped as his lips shifted across her cheek, grazing across her jaw to her ear. “Fuck I want you.”

Hermione gasped, her legs desperately pressing together in a failed attempt to lessen the unbearable pressure that had gathered in her core. She couldn’t handle this – she couldn’t handle the way he was touching her, the way his lips were shifting along her neck to the junction of her shoulder. He _knew_ how to touch her – and it was excruciating bliss.

“ _Take me_ ,” she gasped, her hands struggling to remove his pants behind her as she remained pressed tightly against his body. She was so wet she could feel it – her lacy black panties were drenched. How did he always make it happen, how could he make her so desperate it felt like she was drowning. She needed him to take her, and she needed him to do it now because she couldn’t stand another minute of this torture. “ _I need you – I want you_.”

She felt a shudder run through his body at her words and his grip around her neck tightened ever so slightly. The pressure of it made her blood boil with want as she inhaled sharply before he quickly let go – his hands moving across her body as he tugged the dress down her torso. Her eyes darted to the mirror once more, taking in the sight of her flushed and heated face, the blush that was creeping down her neck and the exposed skin of her shoulders and chest as Malfoy all but ripped the elegant green dress down her body. She’d never, not _ever_ in her life, had sex in front of a mirror – she’d always been too insecure. Far too nervous and way too uncomfortable to even consider it. She’d never even had the _desire_ to try it. But as she watched Malfoy’s perfect form shifting behind her, her nerves stilled, and her constant inner ramble fell silent.

He looked like a mythical creature – an animal so exquisite and beautiful it was almost painful to look at. His glamours were gone, the red scar on his shoulder was visible as he kicked off his pants and shifted behind her. She could see the dark mark on his arm as he grabbed her hip once more, holding her tight as he stepped behind her. She could feel the heat of him, every inch of his bare skin pressing against her now naked body as his leg slid between hers and pushed her feet apart. It was the most erotic and arousing thing she’d ever seen in her life and she felt her mouth grow wet as she unconsciously licked her lips.

Their eyes met in the mirror once more, and her body flooded with a deep burning heat as her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze was hazy from the liquor, but she could see the lust in his eyes as he stepped closer and pulled her back against his chest. His hand wrapped around her body once more, trailing up her torso in between her breasts to grab her neck again as the opposite slid down between her legs. She shuddered as he traced a single finger through her slit, his hand moving easily through the slick as something powerful jolted through her heart and she swallowed hard.

“Do you like when I touch you, Granger?” Malfoy’s deep voice reverberated by her ear and she felt it shudder down her spine as her mouth fell open in a groan. A rush of heat flooded through her body and she felt herself grow even wetter.

“ _Yes,_ ” the word was breathy – it sounded nothing like her. She couldn’t believe she’d even said it or that she’d managed to speak at all. His finger pressed against her clit and she nearly balked at the pleasure as her legs all but gave out.

Her eyes remained fixed on their reflection. She couldn’t look away – her heart was beating dangerously fast but the scene before her was hypnotizing. She watched as he leaned her forward, his heated eyes never leaving her body as his hard length pressed between her legs. Her hand braced against the counter, her opposite gripping the forearm that was pressed against her sternum once more as their eyes locked – and then he pushed into her tight channel with one hard thrust.

“ _Unngnn- aahh, fuck,_ ” the ramble poured from her lips in a breathy exhale as Malfoy thrust into her center and gripped her body tight. It was as if someone had just lit her body on fire. Her legs trembled, she shook against his hold as she struggled to breathe and Malfoy slowly pulled out only to thrust back in harder as his hand curled around her neck. Her vision blurred from the pleasure, her eyes glazing as she watched him fuck her in the dim light through the mirror.

She almost couldn’t handle it.

She almost lost herself on the third thrust. This was nothing like anything she’d ever experienced before, and it felt surreal as her eyes trailed over her own body and watched herself move.

Was that what she looked like to him?

Is this how he saw her?

She didn’t look anything like Hermione Granger – not a fucking thing like the girl who was half dead and working for the laughingstock department of the Ministry. Her eyes were heated and dark with want, her body didn’t look pale or sickly – it was warm and flushed, alive and sparking with life as she rocked her hips back into his motions and groaned out in pleasure. Her curls had become a mess, falling around her shoulders and face like a blanket of desire. She looked like she’d crawled out of a dirty magazine and as she pushed up from the counter Malfoy pulled her back against his chest.

His motions never stopped, his hand continued to grip her neck hard with just the right amount of pressure to make the heat in her body flare at solar levels. His left hand had slipped between them, reaching down to stroke her clit as he fucked her against the counter. Her eyes rolled with pleasure, her nails biting into the skin of his forearm as she struggled to breathe and keep herself standing. _Fuck he feels so good_ , he felt so good it was borderline unbearable. She could feel the stretch of him each time he pushed into her. It was tight and perfect and he slid into her with such practiced ease it was like they’d been doing this for years.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she panted as he pushed himself deep within her and circled her clit with his fingers. He seemed to know instinctively how to touch her, his fingers moving against her bud in just the right way to elicit the ultimate response. She could feel the coil in her center winding tight as her orgasm started to grow. “ _Oh – fuck.”_

Her eyes rolled shut, her body shaking as her legs grew limp. He let her fall against the counter, her left hand gripping the marble hard as her right continued to grasp the forearm against her sternum that was bracing her body. She could feel his thrusts start to quicken, his deep breathing becoming louder as his fingers gripped her tighter.

His left hand fell away from her center as he pushed her down against the counter, making her back arch and her hips thrust out. She spread her legs wider, the tremble within them moving up through her torso as she pushed back into his every thrust. Her face was almost pressed into the counter, her breath came in raspy pants as each time he thrust forward she was pushed harder against the cold marble. She felt his warm hand close around hers on the smooth surface of the counter, his fingers threading through hers and gripping her hand tight as he picked up his pace.

“ _Granger_ ,” his deep voice was heavy and thick.

The rumble of it sent another shiver down her spine as he pushed into her deeper and hit her g-spot hard. She groaned, her forehead pressing into the marble as she pushed her hips back even further into his motions as her mouth fell open. He was going to be the death of her. He was going to ruin her. The pressure was building so tight in her center she wanted to scream. She could no longer control the noises that left her mouth as he fucked her harder, faster, his hand gripping hers tightly before the one on her neck closed even tighter and her blood pressure raced.

“ _Granger,”_ his deep voice sounded once more, cutting through her haze and catching in her mind. “ _Look at me._ ”

Her bleary eyes cracked open, her head lifting slightly from the cool surface to look in the mirror once more and her heart stuttered in her chest. She could see him moving behind her, his hand gripping her neck hard but not dangerously as he fucked her from behind. He was using it to tilt her head up, her eyes trailing along his torso as her gaze shifted up his body. She felt like she was ready to snap. Her fingers curled around his tighter, gripping his hand against the surface of the counter so hard she could no longer feel her hand. He lifted her up a fraction, leaning down closer to her so his chest grazed her back as her eyes finally met his – and the coil in her center snapped.

Her whole body convulsed, her legs vibrating as she all but screamed out in pleasure. She watched through the mirror as Malfoy watched her come apart – as he watched her melt in his hands and completely fall to pieces. Her vision blurred but she watched as he groaned, his head ducking forward as his lips met her temple and his deep voice groaned into her ear.

“ _Fuck you’re so incredible, Granger_ ,” his words vibrated against her ear as his pace quickened, his hard length impaling her in the best way possible as a second rush of pleasure shot through her body. “ _Unngh - I could do this forever_.”

Her eyes pinched closed, her body arching up against him as her vision spotted with black.

“ _M-Mal-foy,”_ she stuttered his name, coming hard for a second time as a deep groan left his lips and his hips started to jerk.

She could barely open her eyes, she could barely make her body function as she hung desperately in his grasp, her hand shaking against the counter as he drove into her and she watched him fall apart. His face was twisted in pleasure, the muscles in his shoulder rippled with tension as his whole body grew tight and he jerked into her with a deep groan that made her feel like she was going to explode.

It was the most intense thing she’d ever seen; she could feel her eyes watering with bliss as he crumpled against her, his chest collapsing against her back and he panted in her ear. He was shaking. His whole body trembled against hers as he clutched her tight and struggled to breathe. She gasped alongside him, unsure if she would ever walk properly again or ever catch her breath. She couldn’t feel her legs, she couldn’t feel her arm. His left hand was gripping hers so tightly now that he might well have broken it.

But she didn’t care.

Her glazed eyes travelled over their forearms, taking in the sight of his pale skin and dark mark resting gently against her flushed arm. The red angry letters of her scar were just barely visible under her arm against the surface of the counter and the blend of colours looked like art in the dim lighting. She’d not even realized that she’d removed her glamours – but she must have done it at some point. She felt him shift behind her, his head turning into the mess that was her hair until his lips grazed her shoulder and his nose nuzzled into her neck. His hold on her neck had loosened, but he still held her firmly like he didn’t want to allow even an inch of space between them.

“Malfoy,” she whispered, her voice sounding hoarse and worn as it broke from her lips. She heard him grunt into her shoulder, evidently too tired to give a worded response. “Stay with me tonight.”

She felt his lips graze against her neck once more, his head nodding into her curls as he pulled her body against him in a gentle but firm hold – and then he brought his hand toward her jaw to turn her head towards him once more, and he kissed her softly. His lips shifting across hers like he wanted to both savour and devour her. She could hardly breathe as she kissed him back and allowed him to pull her up from the counter to stand.

It never even crossed her mind that she was standing in front of him naked, that he could look into the mirror and see her completely. Her mind had shut off the second he’d come undone and the minutes she’d watched him crumble to pieces. She didn’t think as she kissed him back, dimming the lights in the bathroom before slowly tugging him towards the shower. He followed her, his hand holding her lightly as she led the way and flicked on the water before opening the glass door. She’d never showered with another person before in her life – and in the back of her mind, it hit her as absolutely insane that Malfoy, of all people, would be the first person that she’d do it with. But she pushed the thoughts aside, not allowing the panic to take hold as she stepped under the hot stream of water and vanished the makeup from her face with the charm that Ginny had taught her before she ducked her head under the water.

She could feel the unease creeping under the surface of her skin at the undefined closeness between them. Deep down she knew that if this had been any other night she’d be freaking out. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was so utterly exhausted and so laced with liquor – she’d be pitching a fucking it. But she was too worn and used, her body ached from wearing heels all day and her mind was dead from faking her way through the closing gala.

But as Malfoy’s hands ghosted over her skin and his lips kissed her shoulder she started to forgot about it entirely. She vanished his mess from her body, once again not thinking about how she’d let him come inside her so many times without question or how he didn’t seem to have an issue with it. They showered slowly, washing away the sweat and stress of the day, their muscles exhausted from their activities. Yet she didn’t step away from him and he didn’t step away from her. They hovered around each other and traded out their positions under the water with a comfort and ease she’d never felt before in her life.

Yet the strangest part – was how she couldn’t keep her hands off him. She didn’t know why, and she refused to allow her weary mind to ponder it – but she kissed him, slow and almost drunken as they shifted beneath the water. Her fingers trailed over his wet naked skin as if she was trying to memorize every dip in his muscles and every curve of his body. She knew tomorrow she would replay this scene again and again to try to understand – but in this moment, she just let it happen and he seemed to have no issues allowing it.

When they finally got out of the shower her eyes were starting to close. Her body was done and she knew it. She dried her hair with a charm, summoning her pajamas from her suitcase and pulling them on with great effort before Malfoy grabbed her hand and led her to the bed. She didn’t even think as she crawled in under the covers, watching as he shifted to his own side, turned off the light with a flick of his finger and then joined her under the plush duvet. The anxieties that had plagued her the night before when she’d asked him to stay seemed nonexistent tonight and she curled into his arms without hesitation and exhaled deeply.

She thought she heard him mumble something by her head. But his face was buried into her hair like always, and her brain was already checked out. The last thing she remembered was clutching him tight and nuzzling her nose into his chest before everything faded away and she fell into the darkness.

(to be continued…)

-x-x

Apologies for the delay. Know that I love you and I will never abandon this story.

Stay safe my friends <3 the world is crazy.


	17. The Flobberworm Explodes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione heads home and puts her plan into action…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates whenever I can get them done. The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

This chapter is dedicated to Athena_5. Your live reacts made my day <3 Honestly… I was laughing and smiling, and it was more fun than I’d anticipated. Thank you for sharing your reading experience with me <3

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Hermione groaned softly as she shifted. Her arms were sore and her legs were stiff – she could feel a dull ache between her thighs as she curled into the warmth that surrounded her. She felt absolutely depleted, both physically and mentally and yet oddly, she felt rather good. It took her brain a long moment to register the slight movement behind her and to recognize that the warmth encasing her body was actually caused by none other than a sleeping Draco Malfoy. She could feel his chest pressed against her spine, his arms wrapped tightly around her middle and his face buried into her hair so deep his nose was right in the crook of her neck.

And instantly, as if a switch had been flicked.

She felt panic surge through her body like a wave, rushing down her limbs and aching through her brain as everything tumbled to the forefront of her mind. Her opened boxes, her emotions, all the stress of this weekend and everything else tumbled out like a flash flood and made her stomach knot with sickness. She had to force herself to breathe and make her muscles relax as irritation and annoyance surged through her veins. She couldn’t believe that this was her new normal – that this was her life and that she would need to be prepared to do this every single morning until she finally trained her body not to panic at the idea of processing emotions.

It was awful.

And it was exhausting.

She had to pinch her eyes closed tight and force her way through it all, working through each emotion as calmly and carefully as she could while reminding herself that she was safe, warm, and happy. That this was where she wanted to be and that her body wasn’t in danger. The emotions weren’t going to kill her, and trauma was just a memory. It was easier than the day before – but it felt more frustrating. Like her patience was already wearing thin at the prospect of doing this for the foreseeable future and she had to clench her hands to stop herself from smacking herself in the forehead for being so fucking stupid with her own brain.

 _Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age – yeah fucking right_ , she groaned internally as she inhaled once more and fought the sickness curling in her stomach.

Looking at herself now – a part of her was shocked that _Malfoy_ hadn’t smacked her over the head at her flat once he’d found out what she’d been doing with her occlumency. Because now, after dealing with this, experiencing the mental flood and learning how to process it and sort through her mess she realized he’d let her off easy. His brief outburst in her kitchen and the way that he’d handled her and spoken to her about her misuse of occlumency was nothing. Hell, if it had been the other way around, she would have eviscerated him with words and probably punched him in the chest for being so irresponsible.

Yet he hadn’t.

He’d been calm and more understanding than she’d given him credit for at the time. Despite their history of violence and anger – at that moment he’d held back, and he’d been a decent human being. She let out a sigh as she cracked her eyes open once more and stared out into the darkness. Malfoy’s warm hard body against her spine helped. It was calming, relaxing and brought a strange sort of peace to her body. She could feel his breath ghosting along her skin like a whisper and it gave her a soft pattern to focus on as she settled her body and cleaned up her mess – all while she tried to ignore the fact that she would need to do this _alone_ tomorrow. Then the day after that, and the day after that, and so on. It took her nearly twenty minutes, but eventually, her muscles loosened, her mind relaxed and she was able to lay there quietly in his arms and enjoy the heat.

Once calm she allowed the memories of the night before to drift lazily through her mind. She still had a million questions, all the tension and unsurety from the night before remained valid. She had no idea what she was doing or what the two of them were – but instead of panicking she forced her mind to focus on her plan. First thing first, she needed to keep Malfoy out of Azkaban because logically she knew there was no point in worrying over what might happen between them or what they might be if he was at risk of defaulting on his parole and getting locked up.

But even knowing that, she couldn’t stop the blush that washed over her body as she thought about the way he’d looked last night. The way he’d held her, the way his fingers had gripped her neck and his body had shifted as he’d fucked her before the mirror.

She would never forget it.

She swallowed hard, feeling the rhythm of his breath change against her skin and she knew he’d woken up. But he didn’t move. He stayed there, holding her tightly and firmly to his chest like he was entirely content to just lay by her side indefinitely. She debated waiting him out – seeing how long it would take until he moved or until he spoke. She lasted only a few minutes before admitting defeat and twisting within his hold to turn around and face him. She knew it was a lost cause. She would _always_ lose this battle with him because her mind just never stopped racing – Malfoy was far better at relaxing and letting his internal monologue wash over him without reacting to it in the mornings.

But as her eyes took in his dishevelled form, his calm face, and his limp body as he laid there unmoving beside her – she couldn’t help but smile. She could give Malfoy this win. She was happy he could be so placid in the mornings – because it gave her the chance to see him in a way that she doubted anyone else had.

“Good morning,” she whispered, her eyes tracing over his face.

“Good morning,” his voice was low and raspy, and his eyes remained closed. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Hermione said quietly, her voice remaining low. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to be so quiet. Maybe it was because she didn’t want this to end. Maybe she was worried if she spoke too loudly it would trigger something that might break the peace and strange understanding that seemed to have settled between them. She felt herself flush with a blush once more as she thought about the dull ache that was radiating through her body from being thoroughly fucked the night before and her voice dropped lower. “A little sore.”

His eyes flickered open at her words; his silver gaze hazy as it traced over her face.

“Was I too rough last night?” Malfoy’s deep rumble vibrated into her through his chest. “I didn’t squeeze your neck too tight, did I?”

“No,” her head shook slightly against the pillow and she felt her blush grow a shade darker. Last night had definitely been more heated, more aggressive and much more similar to some of the first few times they’d fucked. But it wasn’t the same thing at all. The way he’d held her so tightly, the way he’d looked at her, his words – the way he’d all but ordered her to watch him fuck her. She felt her stomach knot nervously as she licked her lips. It had been incredible, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t like it. The truth was she’d loved it. “Not at all – I – I actually rather liked it.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, his eyes watching her carefully as if he wanted to be sure she was telling the truth. His arm shifted around her body, his hand coming to rest on her side as his thumb traced tentative circles across her skin. “I know that things were –“

Malfoy hesitated, his eyes creasing slightly.

“Well, I fucked you pretty hard the first time Granger, there’s no point in trying to downplay that,” he said slowly, his low voice deep. His eyes creased even further, and he seemed to struggle for a second before conceding. “And the time after that. But that – that was different. I – I don’t want to hurt you, Granger. If I ever do anything that’s too much or too rough, or if you don’t want it – promise me that you’ll tell me.”

“I will,” she nodded, carefully bringing her hand out to touch the side of his face. She could feel a part of her brain reeling in bewilderment that she was freely touching Malfoy – that he was _letting_ her touch him, and that she _wanted_ to do it. She watched him as she ran her thumb over his cheekbone, brushing some of the hair that had fallen over his face away from his eyes. Then her lips twitched into a smirk at the thought that crossed her mind at his words. “Did – did you want to? Hurt me that is, back then.”

Malfoy stiffened a fraction, his jaw clenching tight before Hermione smiled at him and raised a brow. She didn’t mean to touch a nerve or turn this into a difficult conversation or argument, but it was something that she’d been curious about. He seemed to struggle internally for a moment before he inhaled and let out a sigh.

“A little,” he said slowly, his eyes watching her carefully once more. “I had a hard time being around you. You were the embodiment of all my failures. You represented everything that I’d fucked up in my life and everything that I could never have. And I resented you for it. Plus, you’re bloody annoying at times, impossible to deal with and a right pain in my ass. So – yes. Back then I did want to hurt you but I never would have – at least not seriously.”

“I wanted to hurt you too,” Hermione said quietly, her heart clenching in her chest with the admission. If not for the fact that she’d _hated_ him and had thought that he was a fucking dick back then, his words now would have rightly pissed her off. But it wouldn’t be fair to get angry with him over the admission when she’d felt exactly the same way at the time. “Just a little – I – I wanted to punch you so many times.”

“You did punch me,” Malfoy said flatly, his rough morning voice making her smile.

“I know – but I mean _really_ punch you.”

“You mean like in third year,” his eyes narrowed at her and she actually had to repress a laugh.

“Harder,” she said, feeling his thumb press into her side more firmly at her admission.

“I think third year was hard enough,” Malfoy said slowly, as he inhaled once more and let out a slow breath. He closed his eyes for a moment before he met her gaze once more and she saw the concern laced underneath it. “I didn’t hurt you – at the office, or at your flat that time, did I?”

“No more than I hurt you,” she said softly, tracing her hand across his cheekbone once more. “Just a few bruises – but nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, his hand tracing along her side once more. She couldn’t help but feel like the motion was growing more confident. As if he was slowly becoming more comfortable with the idea of him being allowed to touch her.

She laid there staring at him in silence, wondering what thoughts might be going through his head as a million raced through her own. But before she could ask him anything or decide what to say first her alarm went off and she closed her eyes with a groan.

“I have to start getting ready,” she whispered. She could feel all new tension and stress creeping through her body at the thought of returning to the hellhole where she worked and facing Todgekins after this weekend.

She wasn’t afraid – far from it. She was fucking livid. Disgusted and absolutely appalled by her useless flobberworm of a boss and what he’d done to her and her coworkers. What he’d done to her department – he’d damn near obliterated it with incompetence. She wanted to go in and punch the ever-loving shit out of him. She wanted to go scream at him and tell him that he was useless and a complete waste of space. She wanted to tell him he was an asshole, that he had no idea how to do his job and that she didn’t need him anymore. Yet she knew she couldn’t. The whole point of securing the Aconite proposal was to get them out of the office and to keep a low profile.

So, no matter how rightfully angry she was she needed to keep her cool and she needed to keep her mouth shut until Malfoy was safe.

“I’m going to pop into the office for an hour this morning to speak to Todgekins and gather what I need,” Hermione said, letting out a sigh as she forced her brain to refocus after a weekend of bliss in what felt like another universe. A strange universe where she and Malfoy laid in bed together and talked like a normal people. “After that, I’m heading directly to Bennett’s proposed location to get started on our preliminary scans and sample collections. Are you planning to go in – or did you just want to meet me there?”

“I have some stuff I have to drop off in my office,” Malfoy said slowly, his eyes seeming to refocus like hers as they were forced back to reality. “I’ll head in there to do that then meet you by your office just after 9:30 am. We can head to Bennett’s together – I know the exact location so I can apparate us there.”

“Okay,” Hermione nodded, feeling the unease curling in her stomach as her second alarm went off. She needed to get up, she didn’t want to be late – but she wasn’t really sure how to leave. Could she kiss him now before sliding out of bed? She wanted to, but they’d still not discussed anything in terms of defining what they were or what the boundaries were. She hesitated, and the tension must have been evident on her face because Malfoy gripped her tighter and his low voice rumbled.

“Granger – you’re overthinking things again,” he said firmly, his eyes meeting hers with a level stare. She felt her natural flare of anger sparking in her chest at his words and she had to remind herself to let it go. He wasn’t being a dick and he was, in fact, stating the truth. “I’ll meet you in the hotel lobby in an hour.”

Before she could think another thought – Malfoy slid closer, his arm pulling her into his chest once more as his lips pressed against hers and she all but melted into his body. He was so warm, so comfortable, so strong and so fucking perfect she could hardly handle it. He kissed her softly, his lips gliding over hers so gentle and yet firm it made her breath hitch in her chest. As he pulled away it was all she could do not to yank him back down.

But she had to let him go.

They had stuff to do and places to be – she needed this plan to work and she wasn’t going to mess it up before it even started by being late and pissing off her boss. Even if her boss was an asshat. Yet knowing that didn’t stop the flood of desire that crawled through her body as she watched Malfoy’s perfect form slide from the bed. He was frustratingly good looking, and the way he moved was so controlled and fluid it hardly looked real. She had to bite her lip to stifle a groan as she rolled off the other side far less gracefully than him and headed for the bathroom.

-x-x-

“Thank you very much – and how was your stay Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy?” the concierge behind the front desk asked after he’d accepted the keys that they returned to him.

“Everything was lovely,” Malfoy said politely, his impassive face shifting to display just a hint of a smile.

“It was wonderful,” Hermione smiled broadly at the man. Maybe she should have been more controlled, but she didn’t care. It was the same guy who had checked them in and the same guy who had made sure that she received her dress the night before. She wanted him to know how much she appreciated his help over the weekend. “Thank you so much for everything – without you, I would have been in serious trouble last night.”

The man blushed, waving his hand to dismiss her compliment. “It was nothing – nothing at all. We here at the Grand Hotel are always happy to help our guests and if I may say so, it was a personal honour to be able to assist you last night, Miss Granger. And Mr. Malfoy – as always, your presence here is most welcome and we thank you for your continued patronage. The rooms have already been paid for and nothing is outstanding on the bill, so you are both all set. Is there anything else that I could do for you this morning?”

“No, thank you,” Malfoy said as he stepped away from the counter. He had been standing much closer to her than he’d been the day they first arrived, and Hermione didn’t miss the way the concierge was once again glancing between them. But Malfoy seemed to ignore it, his eyes dropping back to meet her gaze. “You ready?”

“Yes,” Hermione said smiling once more at the concierge and then turning away from the counter with Malfoy. She felt his hand land on her back as they moved toward the other end of the huge ornate lobby. “I’m heading straight back to the office so – I guess I’ll see you there?”

Malfoy nodded as they stopped in the apparition space and he dropped his hand from her back. “See you soon, Granger.”

She felt the familiar tug behind her navel as she twisted on her heel, Malfoy doing the same and they both disappeared from sight. She landed easily on the pavement of the apparition zone near the Ministry, taking only a brief moment to smooth down her suit jacket in the cold wind and set her shoulders back firmly before heading toward the main doors. She’d already charmed her outfit to keep her warm, but the sting against her face was bitter and she knew working in the field today was going to be rough.

It wasn’t even 8 am yet and she was showered, fed, well-rested and dressed in one of her nicest business suits. It was the most put-together she’d been for work in what felt like ages and for the first time in years she was genuinely excited to get to her office. She’d debated going home first to drop off her shrunken suitcase, but she didn’t want to waste any time, so she’d just shoved it in her pocket. She wanted to get in and out of this hellhole as quickly as possible and get her belongings to the safety of her apartment. She was planning on packing up _everything_ from her office because she didn’t want to take any chances or need to come back later for something while working the Aconite proposal with Malfoy.

She marched her way in through the Ministry doors, moving easily and confidently past the limited number of people who were milling about. Despite her legs still being exhausted and worn from dancing around in heels the night before and fucking Malfoy she felt recharged and ready to go. She’d been a bit worried she might have a hangover after drinking so much but she felt completely fine. Her head wasn’t even a little bit cloudy.

Perhaps Bennett had laced the alcohol with a potion to help reduce the likelihood of a hangover because he knew his guests would go off the rails closing night. He had been hosting the conference for twenty years after all, he clearly knew the HAAGS attendees liked to drink. Or maybe having sex with Malfoy in front of that mirror had burned all the rest of the alcohol from her system. She wasn’t sure, but she pushed the thought aside as she stepped into the first brass elevator she saw and closed the door shut behind her.

She made a mental list of everything that she needed to do before she left the Ministry and headed to Bennett’s property – mentally cataloging all the belongings in her office so she wouldn’t forget anything. And when the elevator chimed, she stepped out onto her floor, set her shoulder back, lifted her chin high and schooled her face into the impassive look she’d carefully been mastering all weekend before striding down the hallway.

“Tracey,” Hermione said as she approached the woman’s desk. Her head shot up at the sound of Hermione’s voice and she dropped the magazine that she’d been reading as she turned to look at her.

“Hermione – how was the conference?”

“It was lovely, thank you – I have a new proposal that we’re starting today and I’m mobilizing to site to work on it,” Hermione said quickly, keeping her voice calm and confident. “I’m going to go talk to Mr. Todgekins about it shortly, is he in?”

“Yes – I saw him come in a minute ago, but Hermione I should warn you – he looked in a nasty mood,” Tracey said quietly, her eyes shifting to look down the hall toward Todgekins’ office.

“Is Anton here?” Hermione continued, not reacting to Tracey’s warning and keeping her face impassive.

“Uh no – not yet,” Tracey’s brow furrowed as she looked at Hermione. “But he should be here soon.”

“Great,” Hermione nodded, moving towards her office. “Once he gets here tell him to grab the survey bag from the Creature Recovery Unit – I need him ready to go in an hour from now, not an hour from when he gets here so make sure he is ready on time. Dragonhide boots and full attire will be necessary and tell him it will be cold. Also, I’m going to be out of the office for the next little while and unavailable for meetings. Additionally, my response to owls will be limited so – please forward all my mail to my flat as I will be working there when not at site. Should anyone need anything from me they are to come to you, and you will let me know through the notepad that I set up for you last year – understood?”

“Yes,” Tracey nodded, suddenly sitting up straighter in her chair. It seemed to be a natural reaction to the professional tone with which Hermione spoke and she doubted the girl even realized she’d done it. Her eyes shifted to take on a serious glint as she pulled out her notepad before looking back to Hermione. “I’ll get that taken care of.”

“Good, and if you’re free today it would be helpful for you to come along. You can label the sample containers and get a master list started to keep us organized. Do you have field gear?” Hermione asked as she opened the door to her office and lingered in the frame.

“Yes – I have gear,” Tracey nodded once more. She seemed unsure of what was going on, unsure of the change in Hermione that was so noticeable and yet impossible for her to describe. Her eyes kept tracing over Hermione’s straight-backed form as if she was trying to figure out what was different.

“Then get it on,” Hermione said firmly, not waiting for the woman to agree as she stepped into her office. “I want everyone ready to leave in 55 minutes.”

-x-x-

Hermione spent the first thirty minutes of her day collecting up all the notebooks, binders, textbooks and heavy reference tomes that resided in her office. She packed them all securely into her faux leather backpack – ensuring that she grabbed anything and everything of value. Merlin forbid this plan went poorly and she got fired and was unable to get back into her office. Which, frankly, was a possibility since the person trying to fuck over Malfoy was on the Wizengamot – and they clearly had some pull within the Ministry. But she’d be damned if she left her own personal work, belongings, and valuable charm drafts here for the Ministry to steal and undoubtably use without her consent.

She had work here that wasn’t finished, work that was dangerous if not properly understood and she refused to leave it behind unattended. So, she packed it all. Jamming every single last scrap piece of paper and _all_ her favourite pens, highlighters and other stationery into her backpack before grabbing her reclaimed dragonhide boots and strolling out of her office. If anyone were to poke their head inside her office now it would look empty… and frankly, it was.

She made her way over to Tracy, dropping her backpack on the girl’s desk before leaving her boots on the ground by her cabinet.

“Keep your eye on these until I get back,” Hermione said as she quickly checked the time. There was only half an hour left until it was time to leave. “Where’s Anton?”

“I sent him to go get the gear,” Tracey replied confidently, as she pulled her never-before-used field bag out from under her desk and hauled out her dragonhide boots. She’d already changed out of her grey skirt and blouse – having replaced the outfit with a pair of dark muggle jeans and a thick, warm looking sweater. Her hair was now tossed up into a high ponytail and she looked like she might have packed up part of her own desk because her purse, which sat on the opposite corner, was bulging at the seam now. Maybe she sensed something was coming… that or she had no idea what a field visit entailed and so she’d decided to bring _everything._ But either way, she seemed to do it without hesitation and Hermione appreciated her willingness to step up and do her job.

“Good,” Hermione said as she let out a quiet exhale and lifted her head a fraction higher. “I’m going to go speak to Todgekins – when I get back, we’re leaving.”

Tracey nodded firmly, kicking off her thin heels and pulling out a pair of socks from her gear bag as Hermione moved down the hall toward Todgekin’s office. This was the one thing she was looking forward to the least and the one thing that she knew she was going to struggle with. She forced her hands to remain at her sides, her jaw clenched tight but her face calm and indifferent as she closed the distance to her boss’ office.

 _Breathe,_ she thought calmly as her heels cracked against the stone floor. _You spent a whole fucking weekend with prats you can manage this. He’s a dick but it doesn’t matter. One thing at a time. Just get through this discussion and then get the hell out. I’ll work on getting rid of him later once Malfoy’s parole is over but until then, he’s just another idiot. Just an asshole floating his way to retirement. Ignore anything that he says and stay focused!_

She reached his office in three more quick strides, knocking on the frame of his door before stepping inside.

“Sir,” she said, keeping her voice as calm and level as she could. She watched his large face twist into a frown, his skin already starting to turn purple as his anger seemed to instantly ignite at the sight of her. “You wanted to see me?”

She didn’t bother saying who had supposedly told her that he wanted to see her – because no one had, and she figured that Mr. Todgekins knew that. But he didn’t even seem to register the words that had left her mouth because he was already opening his own to yell at her.

“ _Granger_!” Mr. Todgekins growled, standing from his desk and slamming the door shut behind her with a flick of his finger. She fought against her urge to roll her eyes, the gesture of shutting the door was entirely useless and stupid – just like him. His office wasn’t silenced and most of the floor would be able to hear him yelling even with it shut. She’d tried to tell him this in the past but he’d never listened to her. “ _What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!?_ Do you have **any** idea how much shit you’ve just buried us in?! Did you ever stop to think while you were there, huh?! Take even **one** second to consider what you were doing?! There is a reason why I comb through opportunities and pick the ones best suited to our capabilities and don’t just _blindly_ accept them all! **_We don’t have the resources or the capabilities to do all the work that you, on your own, decided to take on!!_** _”_

His face was positively purple now. He looked like a swollen flobberworm ready to explode. The words flew hot and angry from his mouth as his face twisted into a snarl and he unleashed his rage. It seemed endless as if the man was so angry and upset with her, he just couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. She felt her body growing tense as he continued to drone on and on about her arrogance and her complete disregard for the chain of command. She kept her eye on the time, waiting until he would inevitably burn himself out and run out of steam. He managed to scream at her for a solid twenty minutes before he finally inhaled sharply and pounded his hand against the dark wooden surface of his desk.

“Now I have to call Randy and explain why the Bicorn Wellbeing Mandate will be delayed! I have Shacklebolt up my ass, my floo connection is ringing off the hook and I need to sort out what the **_FUCK_** I’m going to do with the disaster that **_YOU_** have created!!” Todgekins screamed, his body now shaking with rage. He was nearly out of breath and his voice was starting to strain. Yet despite his complete lack of self-discipline and control – and even though everything he’d said was complete and utter bullshit, Hermione remained composed and entirely still as she stood before his desk. “Your behaviour was **_COMPLETELY UNACCEPTABLE!!_** Do you have anything to say for yourself, Granger? Or are you just going to stand there like a mute _idiot_ and refuse to accept any accountability for this _fucking disaster_!!”

Hermione inhaled tightly as she stared at the man.

A deep-seated rage was boiling in her chest. It felt old – almost ancient. As if all of her anger and frustration with life and her work had amalgamated into a single ball of fury and it was focused entirely on this man. It was hot as lava and she could practically feel it scalding her throat as she looked at him.

Todgekins was scared.

He was scared and he was lashing out. She knew this and yet even with understanding this she felt not an ounce of sympathy for the man. Todgekins had dug this hole himself. He’d made his bed and now it was his time to lay in it. She didn’t care if he got fired. She didn’t care if he lost his pension and was screwed over by the Ministry.

He had singlehandedly screwed over countless people, creatures and was solely responsible for running her department into the ground instead of building it up and trying to make the world a better place. Maybe he’d just gotten burnt out and no longer cared. Maybe, at one point, he’d been a decent person and done a good job – but he wasn’t now. He’d given up and he’d stopped trying so fundamentally that her department was at risk of being closed in the next five years.

She’d always known it – she’d just never understood why, and she’d just always assumed that she needed to work harder to turn things around. Her motivations had been wrongfully placed and her anger had been misdirected. But now she knew – he’d failed them because he’d given up.

But she hadn’t.

Not yet.

She still cared. Despite all her mistakes and regardless of how broken she had allowed herself to become she still gave a fuck and she would not let this man do even another moment’s worth of damage to her career.

But she wouldn’t sink to his level either.

Using every bit of self-control she had and implementing the tools that Malfoy had taught her, Hermione forced her hands to relax at her sides and inhaled slowly.

“I was just doing my job, sir,” Hermione said calmly, her eyes never leaving Todgekins’ face as she kept her head held high and her tone impassive. She could see his eye twitching at her lack of outburst or reaction to his fit of rage – but she ignored it. “I’m sure Shacklebolt will understand that I only had the department’s best interests at heart. If you need me over the next few weeks, please contact Tracy as I will be in the field working the Aconite proposal for Mr. Bennett and will be unavailable at the office.”

She didn’t wait for him to agree with her – or for him to yell or throw another fit. It didn’t matter if he approved of her going. Staying and allowing him to yell at her further wouldn’t accomplish anything. Besides, she was due at Bennett’s property in just a few minutes and she knew that Todgekins knew this even if he was too blinded by his rage at this moment to see it. Once she left and he managed to calm down, he would fold in on himself. He would realize just how badly he’d fucked up and she suspected that he would spend the rest of the day doing damage control while trying to come up with a plan to save his ass. The man was thoroughly screwed, but he would undoubtedly try to weasel his way out of this.

But he could do that on his own time.

She was done being yelled at and she had shit to do.

She didn’t hesitate as she turned away from him, opened the door to his office and stepped out into the hall. She made her way back to her office, nodding politely to an incredibly uncomfortable looking intern who was shifting down the hallway with a file folder clutched tight in his hands. He’d undoubtedly heard the yelling, but she didn’t care. She smiled at him calmly, keeping her back straight and her head held high as she made her way to the end of the hall. As she rounded the corner and stepped into the open area before her office, she saw Malfoy standing there next to a fully geared up Anton and a slightly confused looking Tracey. Malfoy was holding her faux leather backpack in his hand and his eyes immediately darted to her the second she came into view.

“All ready?” Hermione asked as she closed the distance toward the odd-looking group and summoned her boots from the floor. She wasted no time in kicking off her heels, pulling a fresh pair of socks from her pocket and lacing on her boots.

“Yes,” Malfoy said calmly as Tracey and Anton nodded in unison. He handed her her backpack seamlessly and without question when she outstretched her hand to him. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, summoning her heels from the floor and jamming them into her backpack before shrugging it on. She knew she probably looked a bit ridiculous, wearing an expensive business suit with dragonhide boots while wearing a backpack – though really, it wasn’t too far off her normal attire.

“Alright, let’s go,” Malfoy nodded, turning on his heel to make his way down the hall to the elevators. She followed him without question, turning quickly to walk by his side as Anton and Tracey raced to catch up to them. As they walked she felt his eyes on her and she twisted her head to glance up at him, taking in the tiny threads of concern that were laced within his gaze.

“You heard I take it?” Hermione whispered, keeping her voice low so Anton and Tracey wouldn’t hear them.

“Everyone heard – the doxies in the basement could have heard that,” Malfoy muttered back, his eyes scanning over her face before meeting her gaze once more. “Granger – are you okay?”

She felt her heart clench at the tone of his voice, but her lips twisted into a small smile as they closed the final distance to the elevators.

“I’ve never been better,” Hermione whispered, glancing up to him once more and feeling her face split into a broad smile as her heart fluttered in her chest. “Now let’s go get our samples.”

(to be continued…)

-x-x-

Hey everyone, I know that you have no reason to believe me… but I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again (perhaps a little louder this time) – I swear to you on my soul that this fic is **NOT** abandoned. This fic _WILL_ be finished, it’s just that life sometimes gets in the way and I’m constantly short on time. I love you all very much and I appreciate your patience and kindness while I (slowly) finish this off.

So, please… and I mean this in the nicest way possible… stop assuming this is abandoned just because it has been sitting for a while <3 Every time I hear about people thinking I’ve abandoned this work it makes my stress levels soar… maybe I’m just pathetic hahaha and maybe that will just sound silly to you. But I promise you this fic is not abandoned.

I hope you enjoy this chapter… 18 will be up soon.


	18. The Stag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wild Harry appears… and a conversation happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> \- Smut  
> \- Bad and dirty language – we swear like sailors at times  
> \- Bouts of verbal assault, snide remarks, sneering, groaning, yelling and aggressive behaviour in hopefully a more funny nature than distressing drama (I hate unnecessary drama *eye roll* so I’ve tried to make the premise a bit ridiculous. Let’s see how this goes)
> 
> Updates whenever I can get them done. The Forest Of Dean will take priority over this one.

They apparated to Bennett’s proposed greenhouse location at precisely 9:40 am. Malfoy, who had kindly offered to apparate them all together, squeezed her hand once before letting go and shifting towards the South-East corner of where the Aconite buildings would start. The wind whipped at her hair as they cut across the ground. It was cold, and a thin layer of snow was covering the frozen grass and sparse trees that littered the area. When they reached the edge of the proposed plot space Hermione noticed that Bennett had already marked the perimeter with ground stakes painted fluorescent pink and he’d left them a charmed manilla envelop with maps and information that might come in handy.

She listened as Malfoy unfolded the map and outlined the area in which Bennett was hoping to use – noting that there was a small pond off to the West that they needed to work around while ensuring that it was protected. Most of the information that he conveyed to them was included in the files that Bennett had left her – but she found herself remaining silent as he spoke. Watching as Malfoy pointed to different locations on the map and she chose to remain silent as he shared the information which he clearly knew firsthand from spending time at this location.

And it proved valuable.

He already had a rough idea of the issues that they might face. He knew where the snow gathered the highest, and where the ground was soggy and waterlogged in the spring. Though she had to fight to keep her mind focused on the information instead of wondering just how he’d learned all this.

Was it from running around the property as a kid? Had he played here too, at Bennett’s business property as well as at their estate? Or had he and Bennett spoken about this business venture before? Did his family spend a lot of time visiting the Bennetts? And how did that work when the Malfoy’s were notorious blood purists and Bennett seemed so kind-hearted? Though, come to think of it… she wasn’t sure if Bennett was a pureblood or not.

But as Malfoy finished up his summary and Hermione began skimming through the contents of the envelope, she pushed the thoughts aside. They had a lot to do and she wanted to cover as much ground as possible today.

Before jumping into things, they all took a moment to cast several heavy warming charms on their bodies. Hermione transfigured her suit into a dark pair of jeans and a thick comfortable sweater before pulling out a set of dragonhide gloves from her bag and a thick woollen scarf. Malfoy, who seemed content to work in his suit, opted to add a few wordless spells to his clothes before removing his tie and tucking it in his pocket. Evidently, he intended to rely solely on his charm work to keep him warm as he didn’t bother changing his clothes or pulling out a jacket. Though he _had_ switched out his dress shoes for a pair of expensive-looking dragonhide boots.

Then Anton dropped the supply bag to the ground, took out the survey gear and they got started.

It was clear as they worked that both Tracey and Anton were unnerved by the calm nature at which she and Malfoy interacted. Both of them were focused, quickly agreeing to split up the initial tasks with very little debate and with absolutely no screaming whatsoever. Hermione asked Anton to complete a full geo-check of the area even though Bennett had given her a recent copy of one because she wanted the boy to practice and she even took the time to review the process with him after it was completed to make sure that he’d done it properly.

Malfoy got started on the soil samples, carefully bottling and labelling each location that he surveyed and sending the vials to Tracey for her to log them on her list before storing them in the case that Malfoy had pulled from his suit jacket pocket and enlarged. They worked mostly in silence, making their way across the ground like a single unit, not stopping to break or chat until a loud crack split through the air just after noon. The noise had nearly startled Hermione out of her skin, her body tensing tightly as her head jolted up to take in the sight of a small house elf who was standing in the snow, wearing pink slippers and holding up a tray of sandwiches.

Hermione was quickly informed that her name was Lettie and she served the Bennett’s. Anne was aware that they were there working but was unable to come by to greet them in person because she was trapped in a board meeting for the non-profit wildlife conservation group that she ran. Yet the woman had insisted that Lettie ensure they were all well fed.

Hermione had thanked Lettie profusely, charming her hands clean before taking the sandwiches and sitting on her backpack to eat. Malfoy sat near her side, Anton and Tracey sitting across from them and eyeing them curiously as they ate in comfortable silence. When they were done, Hermione left the plates piled near her bag and then got to work helping Malfoy collect his samples. She was so engrossed in her task that she hardly flinched when a second crack split the air, then a third rang out and the plates had vanished from sight.

They managed to cover the majority of the first third of the proposed space before dinner. Then they stopped to eat the food that Lettie had brought them before getting right back to it. Hermione hadn’t been expecting the Bennetts to feed her team and she tried to ignore the guilt that she felt. Not just because the Bennetts were feeding them – but because she knew that if Lettie _hadn’t_ shown up, she probably would have worked straight through both meals and thought nothing of it.

Two hours after dinner they reached the edge of the small pond. Tracey continued to help them without complaint but both she and Anton practically gaped when Malfoy removed his suit jacket and vest, rolled up his sleeves, undid the top two buttons of his dress shirt and stepped into the edge of the half-frozen pond to take a sample and set the charm work that they needed to monitor the health of the ecosystem. They would need it to establish a baseline so they could ensure that new greenhouses didn’t harm the natural habitat – but even Hermione hadn’t been expecting _Malfoy_ to do it. She’d been planning to do it herself. Regardless, there he was, waist-deep in a freezing pond wearing a designer suit while he calmly shifted his wand around.

She followed him in without question – pausing only briefly to cast a waterproofing charm over her body and a thick warming spell before carefully stepping into the ice-cold water. She refused to allow him to do all the dirty work on her behalf. Some witches and wizards tried to take water samples from the edge, and some tried to set the wards by walking out on the ice or perhaps taking a boat into the middle. But the truth was, any decent charms graduate worth their salt knew those attempts wouldn’t work as well and your samples would be less reliable. She knew that you had to ‘ _get in it_ ’ to get the best results. She just didn’t know that _Malfoy_ knew that, and she found herself smiling as she looked over to him as she took their next sample.

He caught her eye as she glanced at him, and she saw his lip twitch ever so slightly.

When they both finally came back out Anton had set the weather monitoring charms and Tracey had made them all tea using the gear in her bag. It was weak and tasted stale. She’d used the tea from her gear bag which had never been replaced – Merlin only knew how old it was, she’d never touched the thing the entire time that Hermione had worked with her – but the gesture was kind and genuine, and Hermione gratefully took the warm mug as she stood next to Malfoy and they ran through the remaining tasks.

They’d managed to finish soil sampling and half the weather monitoring for the first third of the proposed area. Usually, she would work systematically and continue those tasks across the whole of the plot space before moving on to the other monitoring charms, but they agreed it didn’t make sense to start on the soil samples for the next third of the land this late in the evening. So, Hermione agreed to finish setting the weather charms for the area and to instead move to the next step and add the monitoring charms around the perimeter. They would be used to determine if any magical creatures inhabited the land, the information was needed for her calculations so she could determine what type of wards they needed and how the new greenhouses would affect the overall area. Bennett knew that the Golden Snidgets would be an issue, but it was possible that there were other creatures they would need to work around.

It had grown dark quickly after dinner but Hermione had hardly noticed because Tracey, who was now bundled up in three sweaters and wearing a set of earmuffs, had been keeping the area well-lit while she moved their gear bags along with their progress. So, Hermione pressed on, meticulously setting each charm, showing Anton how to cast the monitoring spells, and coordinating the locations for a few other datasets with Malfoy. The freezing air stung her face, but she hadn’t even noticed that she couldn’t feel her fingers until she went to take a pencil from Malfoy, and it dropped to the ground as she fumbled to hold it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hermione muttered, bending to pick up the pencil from the snow.

She could feel the cold seeping through her skin despite her charm work and it was clear that the spells just weren’t cutting it anymore. She rubbed her hands together, muttering another warming charm before looking around at the group. Tracey’s eyes were red with exhaustion and Anton’s shoulders were sagging. Malfoy still looked largely impeccable, but even his face was showing signs of exhaustion and his cheeks were tinged pink from the cold. At some point during the evening when the weather had gotten colder, he’d put his suit jacket back on and pulled out a warm but rather stylish looking coat from the pocket.

“I think we’ve done enough for the first day, Granger,” Malfoy said quietly, stepping towards her in front of Anton and Tracey and taking her hands in his. She felt a warmth pulse through them as he cast a wordless spell, squeezing her hands once before letting go again. She opened her mouth to argue with him only to freeze when she mentally checked the time and realized just how long they’d been out here. “We can pick back up tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Hermione said slowly, rubbing her hands together under Malfoy’s new charm. She turned to look towards her two assistants, a pang of pity slicing across her chest as she took in their entirely spent and exhausted expressions. “I’m sorry – I didn’t realize it was so late. You can go home – warm up. We’ll meet back out here tomorrow but you can start a little later. Just be here for lunch.”

“Okay,” Anton nodded, his face dropping in relief. He turned to help Tracey up from her gear bag which she was using as a stool. “Do you need me to take any of the gear back to the office?”

“No,” Hermione shook her head, moving around Malfoy towards them. “It’s fine – I’ll take it home and bring it back with me tomorrow. But thank you and thank you both for your help today. We got a good start.”

“It was no problem,” Tracey smiled as Anton nodded. The woman’s face was red from the cold and she’d added a second scarf – yet oddly, she looked almost happy despite her blatant fatigue. “But tomorrow I will definitely bring some better tea.”

Hermione watched as they gathered their own packs and then waved goodbye. A quiet crack echoing out across the snow-covered ground as they disappeared into the darkness. Her gaze shifted back to Malfoy, he had moved to collect the bag of survey equipment from the ground and was slinging it over his shoulder. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him carry a bag before – not even when he was a student at Hogwarts and seeing it felt a bit surreal.

“We did make a good start today,” Malfoy said as he stepped back towards her, stopping to pick up her backpack and then holding it out to her. “I’ll take care of the survey equipment – what time are you going to start tomorrow?”

She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder, sighing slightly under the weight as she ran her gloved hand through her hair to push it from her face.

“Well you can meet me at 9 am and we can –“

“I said what time are _you_ going to start,” Malfoy said as he took a step closer. His eyes were locked to hers and he arched a brow at her in annoyance. “You have me full-time until Christmas, Granger – which means that I will be here _full-time_ to support you even if your work ethic would drive a top-tier abraxan into the ground.”

He eyed her quietly for a moment, his eyes dragging over her body before he shook his head and let out a heavy exhale.

“You’re a bit insane – do you know that?” Malfoy said seriously, though his voice remained level. “It’s 2 am and your team is freezing. I know you seem to have no issues working yourself to death, but it is your duty as their manager to keep an eye on them.”

Hermione felt her brow furrow and her jaw clench as she bristled at his word. “If you have an issue with the way I do my work Malfoy then we are going to have–“

“Did I tell you to stop?” Malfoy cut her off.

Hermione frowned crossing her arms over her chest as her natural instinct to be irritated with him flared. “Well no but you –“

“I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Malfoy said quietly, his serious expression softening a fraction as he let out a sigh. She stiffened slightly as he reached for her and pulled her toward him, his arms wrapping around her body to hold her before him as he met her gaze. “And I didn’t mean to hurt you by saying that – but it’s not _untrue_ either. You work yourself too hard Granger, and you forget to monitor those around you who might not be capable of keeping up.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Hermione said tensely, fighting to keep her temper in check as she looked up into his silver eyes. She knew she was tired and stressed – and that always made things more difficult between them. But she refused to backtrack on their progress, so she forced herself to not assume the worst regarding his criticism. “Then explain it to me – if I’m _insane_ and work people too hard then why didn’t you say something? You were here the whole time, Malfoy – why not tell me to stop four hours ago like a _normal_ human being might have?”

“Because they _needed_ to see this tonight, Granger,” he said slowly. “Because they needed to see what it is that you do out here in the field. I wasn’t going to stop you and I wasn’t going to interfere with how you normally work because they need to _learn_ and they need to appreciate just how much slack you’ve been giving them in the past.”

His eyes had softened as he spoke, and he ran his hands up and down her arms to warm her through her thick sweater.

“A month ago – you would have been out here by yourself without even considering asking for their help even though it’s their job to assist you. And I doubt you would have left before the crack of dawn,” Malfoy continued as his eyes traced over her face. “But you don’t need to kill yourself over this one – you’re not alone. We have time and you have help, Granger. At the rate we’re moving we’ll be able to get the sampling done over the next four days.”

“I know I just,” Hermione sighed and dropped her head against his chest, breathing out hard before stepping back slightly to look at him one more. “I know I was pushing it tonight, but I just don’t want to fuck this up, Malfoy. This _has_ to go well, and I don’t want to miss anything or run out of time. The faster we can get the initial monitoring charms done the more data we’ll be able to collect and the better the preliminary report will be.”

“I know,” Malfoy said quietly, his eyes shifting over her face as his hands continued to run up and down her arms. “So, I’ll ask you again – what time will you be here tomorrow?”

Hermione swallowed hard, the cold in her bones making the defeat come so much easier. She didn’t want to drag Malfoy around, gallivanting through the cold on no sleep. But she also knew that if she didn’t tell him he would probably show up at her flat or apparate here at some ungodly hour anticipating her early start. She was doing this for him after all and thus, she needed to involve him. She had to learn how to get better at working as a team and relying on those around her without driving them into the ground.

“I’ll be here at 7 am,” she said finally, the fight and the anger leaving her body with her exhale as a cold breeze brushed across her skin. “I want to get the sampling and ward work completed by Friday. I know it sounds crazy and I know we will need to push really hard to get it done but – if we can, then over the weekend I can start some initial drafts. Then we can run iterations on Monday with the first few days of data and it will put us in a really good spot for the initial report.”

“Alright,” Malfoy nodded, taking a step back from her to give her room to apparate as his lips shifted into one of his rare smiles. “It’s not crazy, Granger – just ambitious. Actually –“

He hesitated, his eyes creasing as if amused.

“It _is_ entirely crazy – and you are absolutely insane,” he said as his smile widened at her narrowed eyes. He shook his head as a low chuckle left his lips and she felt the anger fade from her body. “After you, Granger – otherwise you’ll just stay here all night. I’m not naïve enough to leave before you.”

“Fine,” Hermione said tightly, but she didn’t truly feel frustrated. She could feel her lip curling into a smile despite her best efforts to be frustrated with him. “Good night, Malfoy – I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“See you tomorrow, Granger,” he nodded, taking another step back to give her more room.

He didn’t move as he waited for her to leave and she couldn’t help but smile at him as she turned on her heel and apparated back to her flat.

-x-x-

The next morning when Hermione arrived at Bennett’s property Malfoy was already standing there in the snow holding two coffees in his gloved hands. She gladly accepted the one that he held out to her before setting down her backpack and pulling out her wand. They worked in comfortable silence for over two hours, Hermione _somehow_ managing to turn off the part of her brain that continued to spin about their relationship, and instead, she focused her attention on the tasks they needed to complete. She was surprised when Tracey showed up at 9:30 am with a thermos of tea, dressed in a thick winter jacket and knitted purple hat. She was even more surprised when Anton appeared a few moments later and started to help Malfoy with the soil samples while she set the monitoring charms for the next third of the property.

They worked all day, stopping only when Lettie brought them food and pushed late into the night once more. By the time she got home Thursday night her fingers were red from the cold and it was nearing sunrise, but she couldn’t help but feel good about it. They’d worked hard, diligently – not a single person had complained as she’d directed them around and not once had Malfoy told her to slow down. She figured he would once the sampling and investigations were done, that he was only allowing her to do this so she could get the data they would need for the report.

Then again… Malfoy had worked late with Harry to resolve the dark artifacts found in that cave. He’d somehow managed his M-PaS job and reviewed her proposals – all while allegedly completing potion research and running his family apothecary business. As she climbed into bed that night and set her alarm for Friday morning, she found herself wondering if Malfoy ran himself just as ragged as she did.

Maybe he was used to this?

Either that or maybe he genuinely wanted this to work. Maybe he thought they had a chance – maybe, he was starting to think he didn’t deserve to go back to Azkaban. She wasn’t sure, but she also didn’t think about it for long because she passed out the second her head hit the pillow only to wake up and do it all again the following day.

Friday had progressed similarly to Thursday – except that Tracey showed up an hour earlier at 8:30 am with coffee, Anton arrived at 9 am and they’d both brought snacks to share. The snow was falling heavily, she’d felt it in her bones before she’d even left her flat – and she’d seen the thick flakes of white falling when glancing to see if Artemis had bothered to return yet. He hadn’t and his perch by the window remained empty. Evidently, Luna was a much better caretake than her – that, or he really did need her to go get him because he’d gotten too fat to fly. She knew she would need to message the whimsical blonde at some point – but she’d decided she would allow Artemis to extend his stay a little longer before checking in on him and she’d made a mental note to bring Luna something nice as a thank you.

Yet the snow did little to slow them down. Malfoy and Anton worked diligently to collect the samples and Tracey logged them all carefully while Hermione battered her way into a section of bush to check for an underground river. They paused to eat, they paused to drink the tea that Tracey prepared, and they paused once when Anton’s leg broke through a section of the underground river that popped above ground. Hermione had managed to grab hold of him and stick her feet to the ground before he fell all the way in – and Malfoy had helped haul him out. They’d dried him off, making sure he wasn’t injured before pressing on once more.

Her back ached from walking, her bones screamed in pain from the cold and after dinner, she could see that Anton and Tracey were struggling. She made them stop, lighting them a small fire to warm up by as she and Malfoy continued – trudging off into the dizzying swirl of flurries to set the final charms. And somehow, at 7:30 pm as she lowered her wand back to her side – they’d finished. She felt her body crumple in on itself, her arms shaking as she let out a breath and dropped her head back to stare up at the sky. The snow was coming down so heavy it was hard to see, it was dizzying and disorienting and yet as she inhaled the cold night air it felt incredible and the tension in her shoulders seemed to fall away.

“Did you set the last charm?” Anton’s voice called out and she was pulled from her moment of relief. Her head shifted to look toward him, taking in the sight of an approaching Malfoy before her eyes landed on Anton. He was standing next to Tracey and holding the survey gear bag.

“Yeah,” she nodded, pocketing her wand and turning to move towards them. She saw Anton smile and relief split across Tracey’s face. “Malfoy – did you get the North-East corner?”

“Yes,” he nodded, coming to stand near them. He’d cast one of his charms over his body, so the snow didn’t collect on his shoulders or head. Hermione hadn’t bothered, neither had her assistants and she knew that her hair was coated in the thick flakes. “We’re done.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Anton breathed as his body doubled over and he brought his hand to his head before looking up to Hermione almost sheepishly. “Not that this hasn’t been fun – I – I learned a lot it’s just that –“

“It’s fine, Anton,” Hermione said as she smiled at him, reaching out to grab her backpack from Tracey. Malfoy was already holding the bag they’d been using to collect the samples. “It’s been a long few days, but – I appreciate your help. Going forward we can move at a slower pace. I just needed these samples as soon as possible and the charm work set-up so that we can start collecting data. You two can take the weekend off, just bring the gear bag back to Creature Recovery Unit tonight because they might need it. I’m going to draft up some stuff this weekend and figure out our next steps. Once I have that outline, I’ll contact Tracey and tell you both what I need.”

“Okay,” Tracey nodded, rubbing her arms to keep herself warm. “You’re sure you don’t need anything this weekend?”

“I’m sure,” Hermione nodded. “Rest and warm up – we may be working slower next week but we’ll still be busy.”

“Alright,” Tracey nodded again, glancing at Malfoy with one of the curious looks she’d been giving him all day. Both her and Anton had been doing it interchangeably, looking at Malfoy as if he was a different person before glancing at Hermione just as strangely. Yet neither one of them had ever actually said anything. Her eyes circled back to Hermione and she smiled. “I’ll wait to hear from you on Monday then. If you change your mind or anything comes up – I have my notepad with me so you can message me this weekend.”

“I will,” Hermione said as she watched the girl shoulder her gear bag and step away to apparate.

“Oh – and thanks for letting me come out to the field with you,” Tracey added, pausing mid-turn. She looked genuinely happy even though she was covered in snow and clearly freezing cold. “I had a lot of fun – it was way more interesting than being in the office and I learned a lot.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed in surprise, but Tracey had already turned on her heel, and a crack rang out in the darkness as she disappeared from sight.

“I’ll see you Monday boss,” Anton nodded to her before turning to Malfoy and nodding. “Malfoy.”

He left with the gear bag, leaving her and Malfoy standing alone in the snowstorm.

“You’re going to start building the tables to collect the data tonight, aren’t you?” Malfoy asked her, his voice low as he stepped towards her, slinging the bag of samples over his shoulder as he moved.

“Yes,” Hermione confessed, rolling her eyes and letting her shoulders drop further. She didn’t want to argue with him on this, she was going to do it whether he thought it was stupid or not. “I know it could technically wait until tomorrow, but I figure if I start them tonight then –“

“Then the data will be there tomorrow, and you won’t have to do it then,” Malfoy said, practically finishing her sentence for her. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he reached out his hand to her. “I don’t know what’s worse, Granger, the fact that I _know_ what you’re thinking and understand how your brain works – or that I actually _agree_ with you. If we get the drafts done tonight it will save us at least four hours of additional work tomorrow and that’s four hours of sleep you can get tonight. Otherwise, you’ll be up at the crack of dawn like the maniac you are to get them done so you don’t risk losing any data. Come on – let’s go.”

“Malfoy, I can’t ask you to come and do the tables with me,” Hemione hesitated, her hand curling tighter around the strap of her backpack as his outstretched hand remained between them.

“You’re not,” Malfoy said as he shifted and grabbed her hand, a hint of irritation ringing in his voice. “I’m offering – and I already _told_ you yesterday. I’m on this full-time until Christmas, you made sure of that. So, you’ve got my help whether you want it or not.”

He was gripping her hand tightly, his eyes creased ever so slightly as he looked at her. She knew in her gut this was an argument she would not win even if her natural instinct was to fight him.

“Fine,” Hermione sighed, gripping his hand tight in return. “We’ll get it done twice as fast if you help.”

She turned on her heel, apparating them both back to her flat with a small pop. They landed in the living room, Hermione bringing a collection of snow with them in the process. She dropped his hand to remove the snow from the floor and her hair before she started to strip off her sweaters and scarf. It may have been freezing out there, but her flat was warm and cozy and with a flick of her finger she lit the small fireplace she had.

“Where did you want to work?” Malfoy asked her as he took off his expensive-looking jacket and draped it over the back of her armchair.

Hermione hesitated, a faint blush creeping down her neck. She’d not managed to fully unpack her suitcase let alone her faux leather backpack which was filled with everything from her office. Each night she’d gotten home so late she’d only barely managed to shower before passing out. As such, her one and only desk in the corner of the living room was still piled with notes and documents related to the Bicorn Wellbeing Mandate. She’d not set anything up to work on the Aconite proposal yet and if she was being honest, she’d been planning to sit on the floor and work over her coffee table.

Tomorrow she was going to clear off her desk and set-up a workspace for the two of them in case Malfoy wanted to work here with her. But that had yet to be completed.

“Uhh,” she felt her muscles tense awkwardly as she gave him an almost sheepish look. “I was… sort of planning to work on the floor tonight because I’ve not had a chance to set up a workspace yet but I can move those files and clear off my desk so that you –“

“That’s fine,” Malfoy said, seemingly unphased by her complete disregard for ergonomics and the idea of sitting on the ground.

“A-Are you sure?” Hermione stammered, watching in surprise as dropped the bag of samples next to the coffee table and then started to pull off his boots. “I can just clear off the desk – I really don’t mind. It’ll just take a minute, you don’t have to sit on the floor.”

“Granger,” Malfoy said as he let out a sigh. “I don’t mind, stop overthinking this – let’s get these tables built.”

She nodded slowly, awkwardly pulling off her boots and moving them to the shoe rack by the door with Malfoy’s as he cast a quick cleaning spell to remove the final remains of the snow they’d brought with them.

It felt odd, having Malfoy in her home. Especially given how it had gone the last time he was there. She’d never removed him from the wards, and she didn’t plan to – especially not with the Aconite proposal. She hadn’t told him that but after the explosion that had happened the morning he’d stayed over and her mind collapsed, she just… never really thought back to it. If Malfoy wanted to, he would be able to apparate into her flat at any time provided that the wards were open. She’d tell him later before he left so that he knew for tomorrow because she suspected that he would come by to help again.

Since working weekends seemed not to phase him either.

Yet despite it being odd and even though she could feel her muscles tensing as she watched him move around her home looking entirely comfortable – she didn’t panic, and it was surprising how quickly they settled into a comfortable working silence. It made her wonder how much stress she could have saved herself over the last four months if the two of them would have just spoken to each other like normal people instead of exploding every time they entered the same room. They clearly worked well together – when they weren’t trying to strangle each other. Had she truly forgiven him and had he dealt with his issues regarding his own failures and self-hatred – they could have worked together at the Ministry perfectly, just like this.

She sat on the ground with her legs crossed beneath the coffee table drafting the chart they needed to log the weather data while Malfoy sat to her left along the intersecting side of the table drafting the chart for the monitoring charms as he leaned back against her armchair. They worked for the first hour in near silence, both of them focused on their work until Hermione got up and made them tea. Halfway through Malfoy removed his tie, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt before rolling up his sleeves.

Another hour later Hermione had transfigured her shirt into a comfortable tank top and piled her hair into a messy ponytail on the top of her head. She didn’t notice the ink stain along her jaw or that she’d dropped her glamour. They paused for more tea, then discussed through the table layouts before they both got to work on finishing the design. At some point Malfoy dropped his own glamours, his hair became a mess as he leaned forward on the table, resting his head in his left hand while he wrote with his right. Every so often she would catch herself staring at him, and she’d have to force her mind to refocus.

It was a challenge.

The man was already good looking but something about him sitting casually on her living room floor in nothing but black suit pants and a nearly half undone white dress shirt that was rolled up to elbows while he looked focused and concentrated on his work was captivating. And incredibly arousing. It pained her slightly that she was so stereotypically herself, that she was attracted to handwork, dedication, intelligence and focus. And as they worked into the night Malfoy displayed every single characteristic and then some.

By the time she finished her half of the work her shoulders were tense and her body felt tight. Yet she knew it wasn’t all from sitting on the floor.

“Alright,” Hermione sighed, pushing a few stray bits of hair that had fallen from her ponytail away from her face. “It’s done. I just checked and the backlog of data from the last two days is already coming in. We should be all set.”

“Good,” Malfoy nodded, breathing out as he leaned back from the table and stretched his arms above his head. She could see the muscles flexing in his exposed arms as he moved before he lowered them back down and picked up his own long scroll of parchment. “The monitoring table is done. I added a sorting charm on it to try and keep any misreads from polluting the data, but you should review through it.”

“Alright,” Hermione nodded, reaching for the parchment he handed her as she gave him her own. “I didn’t know you knew sorting charms.”

Malfoy snorted, his rough voice sounding weary as he took her table and began to skim it over – looking for mistakes.

“There are probably a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he said quietly, though she didn’t miss the hint of amusement in his voice.

“Probably,” she agreed, her eyes catching his as a smirk crossed her lips. “It’s just annoying that you seem to be good at everything.”

“Is that a compliment?” his brow arched at her and his lips twitched into a tired-looking smirk.

“No,” Hermione shook her head and she heard him laugh as her eyes returned to the parchment before her. “I would never compliment you.”

He snorted again and she felt herself smile; a small exhale ghosting from her lips as she glanced at him once more. She didn’t know why she was teasing him, a part of her worried she was treading onto dangerous ground because they were always so at risk of falling into the deep-end and raging at one another because they took everything too personally. Yet somehow, this felt easy – as if they’d both managed to tone their sensitivity levels down about a thousand notches. Maybe it was because she was so tired – or maybe working with him for three days straight in the freezing cold while wadding through snow had forced her to lighten up.

“Well I’m _not_ good at everything,” Malfoy said slowly, his eyes meeting hers once more. “I’m rubbish at transfiguration.”

“Really?” Hermione asked her brow arching as she looked at him. “I thought you got an O in that.”

“I never said I got an O – nor did I ever propagate that bit of information,” Malfoy said quietly, his eyes creasing ever so slightly with what looked to be annoyance. “But Merlin forbid a _Malfoy_ get anything less than perfect on their NEWTS. I got an E – and it was _barely_ deserved.”

She watched him quietly for a moment. His jaw had clenched a fraction tighter, but his shoulders remained relaxed as he reached for his teacup off the center of the table.

“I only got an E on my potions NEWT,” Hermione said quietly. He paused as he brought the teacup to his lips and looked at her, his brow quirking slightly.

“Really?” Malfoy sounded skeptical as if he thought she might lie to him to make him feel better. “You were always good at potions.”

“Exactly,” Hermione nodded, giving him a small smile. “I was _good_ at it and I could manage it, but I was never _great_ at it. It didn’t come easily to me. I didn’t have a natural affinity for it – I followed the instructions far too literally at times. So – understandably, I got an E.”

“I didn’t know that,” Malfoy said quietly, watching her for a moment before he took a sip from his tea.

“Well,” Hermione snorted, mimicking the tone he’d used a moment ago. “There are probably a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

His lips twitched as he lowered the teacup and his eyes skimmed over her frame.

“Probably,” he said quietly, as a tight tension seemed to creep through the air between them. She found herself biting her lip as he watched her until his eyes dropped back to the parchment in her hands. “So, how’s the charm?”

“Oh,” Hermione faltered, dropping her eyes back to the page and clearing her throat. “It’s fine – if you ever want to know how to apply it to things other than tables let me know. I found a way to adapt it.”

“Alright,” Malfoy nodded, handing her back her weather data table. “This looks fine – tomorrow we’ll be able to start the first pass review as you wanted.”

“Mhmm,” Hermione nodded, taking her table back and skimming over it once more. “We’re off to a good start. I might start going through the sample list tonight quick to double-check it and get it organized – this went a lot faster than I thought it would.”

Malfoy nodded, a strange look coming over his face as he reached for the bag by his side and hauled out the sheets of parchment Tracey had used to log the samples. He handed her the top half, keeping the bottom half for himself before leaning back against the armchair once more and focusing his attention on the pages. She didn’t bother arguing with him this time and instead just took half the work and settled in near his side – reviewing the samples and organizing the breakdown for the tests she planned to run in the morning.

They worked for another solid hour, Hermione’s eyes starting to grow heavy as she looked at number after number and tried to group them into logical sense. She could feel her shoulders sagging as she rested her elbow on the table and propped her head up in her hand. There were so many samples to work through that it was a bit overwhelming. It would take hours to run the tests they needed even with Malfoy’s help. She starred a sample near the lake, noting that it should be run first before continuing to skim down the page until she felt something warm touch her arm and her eyes jolted open.

“Granger,” Malfoy’s voice was low, his tone almost soft. “We can finish this in the morning.”

Letting out a sigh she raised her head and rubbed her eyes.

“I feel asleep, didn’t I?” she murmured, her bleary eyes turning to look towards Malfoy’s exhausted-looking frame. His hair was even more dishevelled than before, and his eyes looked tired. “What time is it?”

“It’s 11:30 pm,” Malfoy said as he set his sample sheets back on the coffee table.

“It’s not even that late,” Hermione sighed again as she dropped her elbows to the table and rested her chin upon her hands. “But I guess it has been a long week – we can pick back up again tomorrow, I’ll probably start around 8 am, in case you were planning to come by?”

“That sounds good,” Malfoy nodded, his own eyes looking like they were struggling to stay open. “I’ll bring coffee.”

“Okay,” Hermione smiled, a warm funny feeling buzzing in her chest as she looked at him. Everything about this should have been impossible and yet it wasn’t. Here she was, alive and uninjured after working with Malfoy in her home for the last four hours. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit to herself that a huge piece of her didn’t want him to go. “Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” Malfoy said quietly, his eyes locked to hers.

They both seemed to hesitate, Malfoy remained unmoving on her floor like he didn’t want to go while she stared and him and mentally pleaded with him to stay. But yet she couldn’t say it. She wanted to, desperately. Her bones were aching, her back was sore, her mind was exhausted and all she wanted more than anything else in the world right now was to curl into his arms and go to sleep. But they needed to stay focused, she couldn’t get distracted – and she wasn’t even sure if asking that of him was okay. She bit her lip as she watched him, fighting against her urge to ask him to stay and knowing that she was going to break and lose the battle.

And then, just as her mouth opened to speak, a loud pop rang out.

Hermione jolted, her head snapping up to look at the tall dark-haired figure that had apparated into the center of her living room.

“Hermione!” he’d no sooner landed, and he was already calling out her name and striding across the space toward her bedroom only to freeze mid-step when he realized that she was sitting on the floor right there to his left. “Hermione?”

Harry’s eyes darted between her and Malfoy, his back stiffening as his hand twitched at his side. He looked confused and conflicted, like finding them sitting there on the floor before a mountain of paperwork was the least likely scenario he could have possibly imagined.

“Potter,” Malfoy nodded calmly, his back straightening as he sat forward and grabbed his teacup from the table and took another sip.

Harry stared, his body tense and unmoving as his brow furrowed slightly. As if he was unsure of what he was seeing. Hermione sat on the floor less than two feet away from Malfoy – glamours removed and scars completely exposed. The angry letters on her arm were as red as ever and her neck scar was plainly visible. Yet she looked calm – like she wasn’t even aware that they were showing. Harry’s eyes trailed back to Malfoy, the silver scars on his chest were just visible at the opened collar of his shirt and his dark mark looked like a black hole against his pale white skin.

“Malfoy,” Harry said as he nodded slowly. His voice sounded unsure, and Hermione could practically see his mind spinning as his eyes darted back to her. “Is – this a bad time?”

“Hi Harry,” Hermione started, feeling tension creep down her spine as she fought not to panic. Nothing had been going on – yes, she’d been about to ask Malfoy to stay over – but it wasn’t like Harry had walked in on them doing something explicit. Then again, them sitting here calmly working with their glamours removed was so outlandish she knew no one would ever believe it. She opened her mouth to say something, to try and explain but her voice seemed to catch in her throat.

“Not at all,” Malfoy said slowly, lowering his now empty teacup back to the coffee table before carefully pulling himself from the ground. He rolled his shoulders once he stood – apparently indifferent that Harry could see him sans glamours. She watched Harry watch him move, and wondered if he’d ever seen Malfoy looking so dishevelled and unprofessional before. “I need to head out anyway – Granger, go to bed. You’ll be no good to anyone tomorrow if you’re dead on your feet.”

Hermione’s gaze returned to Malfoy, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly, but her lips twitched into a tiny smile. “Yes, I’m aware Malfoy.”

“Good,” he nodded to her, his eyes lingering just a moment longer than what would be professionally acceptable before he summoned his tie, suit jacket and coat from the couch. He didn’t bother taking his dragonhide boots and they remained on the shoe rack next to hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow – I’ll bring some spare cauldrons so we can double up on the tests.”

She nodded and Malfoy’s gaze turned back to Potter, still completely unaffected by Harry’s sudden appearance.

“Potter,” he said once more, nodding to the confused looking man before a faint crack sounded through the apartment and he disappeared from sight.

Harry stared after him, his eyes locked to the empty space where Malfoy had been standing. He looked to be struggling. He’d clearly not expected to see Malfoy there in her flat and he’d definitely not been expecting to see Malfoy there looking so causal and comfortable – with his dark mark fully exposed and his glamours gone.

His eyes narrowed, his shoulders flexing slightly as he turned to face her once more and his gaze ran over her body. But she didn’t say anything, she just smiled as casually as she could and tried to appear calm and normal. Which was difficult given that her heart was racing, and she felt like Harry could see into her soul. He’d always been incredible perceptive, but ever since he’d died and come back to life his gaze had become just that much more knowing.

“I came by last night,” Harry said slowly, taking a step towards her. His eyes never left her, they seemed to be crawling over every inch of her as if he was looking for something. “But you weren’t home.”

“Yeah I managed to get a bunch of work during the conference,” Hermione said easily, her lips turning into a genuine smile as she got up from the table to stretch her legs. She summoned the two empty teacups from the coffee table and made her way toward the kitchen, sending them to the sink as she flicked on the kettle once more. She didn’t bother recasting her glamours, it would look weird to cast them now and besides, Harry had already seen her scars – so she swallowed down her discomfort and pretended like they weren’t exposed. “Bennett, the head of the HA, asked that I get an assignment done for him before the Christmas break, so Malfoy and I have been assigned full-time. We were out there Wednesday and Thursday with Anton and Tracey until late morning getting the initial surveying done and collecting samples.”

“So I heard,” Harry said, his voice taking an almost unnaturally calm tone. He followed along behind her, closing the distance to stand on the opposite side of her bar-top counter as she pulled out two new teacups and set them on the surface. “Seems like you pulled in a lot of work.”

“I did,” she grinned at him again, pulling out Harry’s favourite tea and an herbal one for herself. She genuinely was planning on going to bed and didn’t need any more caffeine. “The conference went surprisingly well – I wanted to tell you all about it when I got home but I had to get started on the Aconite proposal right away. I still haven’t even unpacked yet; my room is a mess. I was planning to come by tomorrow after Malfoy and I had finished the rough outline to catch you and Ginny up on everything that happened.”

“Ginny would like that,” Harry nodded, his body still more tight than normal and there was a curious expression on his face that she could not quite decipher. “So how was it though, the conference – I mean being there with Malfoy. You guys managed not to kill each other I see.”

“It was alight,” Hermione confirmed, dropping her eyes to the counter to avoid Harry’s piercing gaze as she fought to keep her voice calm.

She’d not yet decided if she wanted to tell Harry about what was happening with her and Malfoy. She wasn’t ashamed of it – she wasn’t embarrassed, it was just so fucking complicated given their history. She still didn’t fully understand it herself and this was all new. This was the first time that she’d ever allowed someone in, that she’d ever allowed someone to get so close to her and it was the first time she had ever felt… like this, whatever _this_ was, about someone.

She didn’t want to mess it up. She didn’t want to make a mistake and she didn’t want the added pressure of people’s prying eyes judging her personal choices. The press would have a hay day with this – she could practically see the titles now: _War Hero Hooks Up With Ex-Death Eater._ Not to mention the fact that Malfoy was at the end of his parole and skating on thin ice. The whole point of this assignment was to get him out of the office, away from the spotlight and under the radar. If she admitted anything was going on between them it would only draw attention to him.

Which was exactly what she didn’t want.

She trusted Harry – she trusted Harry with her life, but she knew if she left Harry in it would only complicate things further. And Malfoy would crucify her if she went to Harry for help about his situation.

“We managed fine,” she said pouring the now boiled water into the two teacups and sliding Harry’s toward him. She looked up and forced herself to meet his gaze. “He’s a prick but – as you said, we didn’t kill each other.”

“That’s good,” Harry said, taking his teacup and fixing her with a hard stare. He watched her for another long moment before his voice dropped a fraction lower. “Hermione… is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No,” Hermione feigned innocence, furrowing her brow and pretending like she had no idea what he was talking about. Like him catching Malfoy in her flat while they calmly worked together wasn’t the equivalent to seeing a boggart for the first time. “Not that I can think of, why?”

His eyes softened, yet somehow became more serious as he took a step towards the counter.

“I made you a promise, Hermione,” Harry said slowly, his hand reaching toward his jacket. She watched as he pulled out a yellow envelope from the inside pocket, and then his eyes met hers once more as his tone became serious. “Before the war, I promised you that I would _always_ be there for you. I promised you that you could trust me – that you could always tell me anything, anything at all and I would never betray your confidence. Not to Ginny, not to the Ministry, not to the Aurors – not to anyone. I promised you that then and that promise still stands now.”

Hermione watched as he opened the envelope, pulling out a stack of thin cards. His gaze held hers for a moment, his eyes creasing slightly before he dropped the cards onto the counter and as they fanned out across the surface, she felt her heart stop and her body tense.

These weren’t cards at all.

They were photos.

Her airway seemed to close, her breath catching tight in her chest as her eyes scanned across them. They were from the HAAGS conference and every single one of them was of her and Malfoy.

On the top of the pile was a picture of her standing at the top of the ballroom staircase, she looked pissed off and terrified – and Malfoy looked like he was ready to strangle her. It was from the very first night and it was clear that they were struggling to be near each other. The photo next to it was of Malfoy holding her to his chest, his hand was gripping the back of her neck tight, plastering her against his body as his image seemed to be whispering something in her ear on the opposite side of her head. She could see the face of her image twisting with rage, her hand clenching at her side before her portrait tried to tug away from him. It was obvious that she didn’t want to be anywhere near him and was barely controlling her fury.

“I have a contact at the Daily Prophet,” Harry said slowly, his hand reaching out toward the photos once more. But Hermione couldn’t look at him, her eyes were plastered to the images of her and Malfoy seemingly hating each other as they glared and snarled at one another in all the photos. “He owes me a favour and I’ve tasked him with keeping anything related to Malfoy out of the Prophet, the tabloids and kept under lock and key. I’d caught wind of Todgekins blowing his top Tuesday morning and I assumed the worst. I figured you two weren’t getting along at the conference. Then when my contact gave me these – well, I thought I had a major problem. I thought he might have hurt you. Or that you might have decked Malfoy in the face again, that maybe he’d hexed you and you two had broken out into an outright brawl in the middle of the opening dinner.”

Harry paused, his hand gently touching the photos and shifting them to reveal the ones underneath.

“Then I saw these,” his voice was so quiet it was almost painful, and Hermione’s body seized with tension as she saw the images underneath. They were of her and Malfoy as well – but they painted an entirely _different_ picture. She felt her fingers curling tightly around the teacup she was still holding as her eyes travelled over the photos and a heavy blush crept up her neck.

She was dancing with Malfoy in her green dress, smiling widely and seemingly having a great time as they twirled around to the music. Her stomach knotted and she had to force her eyes to shift over the others that Harry revealed as his hand pushed the top layer of photos aside. There was one of her and Malfoy on the rooftop, standing _way_ too close together with the heads ducked in conversation. She didn’t remember there being photographers that night – but yet there she was all but plastered to his side. There was another from the closing ceremony, Malfoy’s hand was on her back leading her across the room and they both looked content – the photo was meant to be of someone else but they were clearly visible as they shifted behind the other guest. Then there was one of her, Bennett, Anne, Ludo and Agatha – all of them smiling brightly, their faces flushed as they laughed. Her image self was pressed into Malfoy’s side, his hand was on her hip and he was holding her way to close for it to be professionally acceptable. Yet they both looked happy, free and full of life.

But the last one, her body froze as her eyes finally shifted to it. The last one made her heart clench tight as it dropped into her stomach.

It was the flash that she’d seen from the corner of her eye before Bennett had come over to get the group photograph. She’d assumed a photo of Bennett and Anne was being taken at the time, but it wasn’t – it was of them.

She was standing next to Malfoy’s side, pressed tightly against his body once more as she looked up at him while her right hand rested gently upon his chest. Malfoy was clutching her waist firmly; his portrait self was running his thumb over her ribcage in an intimate and gentle motion. He was looking down at her, a sad soft smile gracing his lips as her portrait self looked up to him with a heated look in her eyes.

It was clear as fucking day.

There was no way to deny this.

Anyone who saw this picture would _immediately_ know that they were there as a _couple_ , not as work colleagues and not as friends – because they were both looking at each other like they were the only thing in the world. It was the most intimate photo she’d ever seen in her life. It was the most desperate show of emotion captured within a photograph that she’d ever laid eyes on. She felt her eyes start to prickle and her stomach knot as she tried to figure out what she was supposed to do now. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t believe she’d been this stupid not to think about what she’d been doing in that moment.

“You know that I love you,” Harry’s voice sounded, as she felt her emotions start to spin out of control. “You know that I support you no matter what and you _know_ that you don’t need to hide anything from me, Hermione. I’m never going to ask you to explain your feelings for him to me. I just need to know that you’re okay – and I need to know what you’re doing because you’re wandering into dangerous territory that I’ve been trying to manage for the last few years.

“Convincing Bennett to start the Aconite proposal now? Pulling Malfoy full-time onto your project when we both know he isn’t needed for you to finish this work before the holidays? I went by your office today and there’s nothing left – you’ve cleaned the whole thing out. Todgekins might buy the bullshit that Bennett fed him about timelines for construction, but I know better, and I know you. Malfoy has been sitting on the edge ever since getting moved into M-PaS – he’s _refused_ to let me do anything about it, but _this_ changes things. You being involved changes things, Hermione,” Harry said firmly as he leaned against the bar-top towards her. He let out a low sigh before his voice dropped lower. “What’s going on between you and Malfoy?”

She could feel a sickening overwhelm start to course through her body as she watched her photographed self stare up at Malfoy with the most loving look she’d ever seen. Yet what seemed to hurt the most was the fact that Malfoy’s own gaze was a perfect reflection of it.

Fuck she cared about this man – she cared about this man so much it made her feel physically sick. She’d promised him she wouldn’t involve anyone else. She’d promised him that she would keep this to herself, that she’d not ask for help or have his friends, coworkers or contacts get involved.

She’d promised him.

But as she looked at the picture, and as she looked at the way that Malfoy was staring at her and the way that she was staring back at him the thought of losing him – the thought of failing and Malfoy being sent back to Azkaban – it made her body ache with a pain she didn’t know was possible.

“Harry,” Hermione said slowly, her eyes creasing with pain and blearing from the tears that were inexplicably gathering in the corner of her eyes as she looked up to meet his gaze.

He was staring at her, his expression laced with concern and his jaw clenched tight. He looked ready to jump over the counter to pull her into a hug – ready to be there for her in whatever way she needed. She knew he was desperate to help if he could just understand what was happening. And as she looked at her friend, her brother – her final and last remaining piece of family – a part of her couldn’t believe that she’d even considered keeping this from him. While another part of her knew she was about to cross a line – a line that Malfoy may never forgive her for crossing.

She blinked, a single tear falling down her cheek.

“I need your help.”

(to be continued…)

-x-x-

Alright… that’s the last of what I got done for a bit. Hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3  
> Please let me know what you think!


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